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A Comparison of Macbeth and Raskolnikoff. Helen Fosa, '94 . . . . 1 

The Mother Moon. Florence Annette Wing, '92 11 

v. Carl and I. — A Sketch. Dorothy Allen 11 

^In Memoriam: Helen A. Shafeb. Martha Gause McCaulley, '92 .... 14 

A Day in Chaucer's Boyhood. Annie F. Wilson, '96 15 

In College Days. Florence Wilkinson, '92 19 

Class Day at . Josephine Batchelder, '96 21 

A Lake Lullaby. '94 29 

At the Burning of the Banner Mills. Lillian Quinby 30 

An Interpreter of Life in Art. Anne Eugenia Morgan 33 

Editorials 37 

Free Press 40 

Society Notes 44 

College Bulletin 45 

College Notes 45 

Alumnae Notes 48 

Book Review 57 

Books Received 58 

Married 58 

Born 58 

Died 58 

idol in — ©ctober, 1894 — mo. i 

Entered in the Post Office at Wellesley, Mass., at* second-class matter. 




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The Welle sley Magazine. 

Vol. III. WELLESLEY, OCTOBER 20, 1894. No. 1. 







The Wellesley Magazine is published monthly, from October to June, by a board of editors 
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You are called away for a time from the sunny brightness and seeming 
happiness of the open air and the every-day world into a dark and gloomy 
place. On one side, the tall, warrior-like figure of Macbeth faces you. He 
appears strong, and yet in his face there is the look of a haunted, desperate 
man ; and you almost seem to see him start and tremble, as if at the sound 
of some ghostly voice, or the sight of some ghostly form. Opposite him 
stands the tall, pale, emaciated Raskolnikoff. His face is that of a student 
and of a young man, and yet he looks prematurely old, as if with too much 
thought and suffering, and there is a frenzied gleam in his dark eyes. Let 
us attempt a brief comparison of the two, — the giant figure of long ago, from 
Shakespeare's great tragedy, and the man so truly a product of our own time, 
the hero of Dostoyevsky's great Russian realistic novel, "Crime and Pun- 


With the history of Macbeth's life and death we are all familiar. With 
that of Raskolnikoff the case is different; few probably have read "Crime 
and Punishment," the novel which deals with his life. We must then con- 
dense into a very few words the contents of this book of some five hundred 
pages. It covers only a couple of weeks in the life of this young Russian 
student, and consists almost entirely of a study of his thoughts, emotions, 
and impulses previous to, during, and after his murder of the old money- 
lender and her sister. Raskolnikoff, a young man of only twenty-four, at 
the time of the story, was enabled, by great self-denial and exertion on the 
part of his widowed mother and his sister, to leave home and study in the 
University of St. Petersburg. He was wretchedly poor, but by their aid, 
and the pittance he could make by tutoring, he would have been able to 
continue his studies had he not given himself up to discontent, and shut 
himself up for days at a time in his wretched lodging, neglecting both study 
and teaching, and brooding over the injustice of his own situation and that 
of many others in like case. He was a very unusual and very strong char- 
acter ; he had a fine intellect, and great possibilities as an author and a 
thinker. These powers he realized fully, and, working out a theory of his 
own, he felt that he had a right to every opportunity for development. His 
theory was, in brief, that men consist of two classes, the ordinary and the 
extraordinary ; and that the extraordinary have inherently the right to 
destroy the ordinary, that they may rise, and with their rise benefit humanity. 
According to this belief he felt himself justified in killing and robbing the 
old woman, who was notoriously extortionate and miserly, in order that he, 
by her money, might educate himself and thus advance mankind. Finally 
he did most brutally commit the murder ; but immediately he underwent such 
a revulsion of feeling, that all his theories as to the necessity and beauty of 
the act forsook him. He became frenzied, desperate, uncontrolled, even 
sometimes delirious, until he had betrayed himself to several people. 
Finally, through the influence of his own state and the pleadings of one 
poor, noble girl, he confessed his guilt in these words : ' 'It was I who killed, 
with a hatchet, the old money-lender and her sister Elizabeth ; and robbery 
was my motive." 

The brief epilogue tells of his life in Siberia, and his final awakening to 
a new and better self under the influence of Sonia's love. Such, in barest 


outline, is his story ; a remarkable one to the casual observer, and still more 
remarkable to the student who looks beneath the outward appearance and the 
events, at the awakening of his soul and mind. 

There are many lines of thought which might be taken up in comparing 
Raskolnikoff with Macbeth. The one Avhich is followed in this paper is a 
study of their likenesses and differences, as results of circumstances and of 
natural and inborn characteristics, — also the results of their crime upon each. 

At the first glance it would seem that there could be little in common 
between Macbeth, the Scotch chieftain of the eleventh century, and 
Raskolnikoff, the Russian student of the nineteenth ; and yet immediately 
we think of them as alike in crime, — they both were murderers. Nor is 
this the only way in which they are connected. They were both men dis- 
satisfied with their lot in life ; not, perhaps, for exactly the same reason, but 
each was determined upon advancing himself by the attainment of some- 
thing not lawfully his own. With Macbeth it was another's station ; with 
Raskolnikoff, another's money. Neither of them was able to adapt himself 
to circumstances, — to accept the inevitable, and live his life on that basis. 
They did not take a sufficiently comprehensive and long view of the 
complications which would result from their acts to see that defeat and 
ruin would inevitably overpower them. In foresight, then, they were both 
deficient, though the cause was not the same. 

The marked featui'e of the play " Macbeth," is the supernatural element 
contained in it and its effect on the character of Macbeth. This seems 
perfectly in harmony with the time in which he lived and with his nation- 
ality and surroundings ; and yet in Raskolnikoff we find equally great super- 
stition, or, more accurately, susceptibility to coincidences. When the witches 
announce to Macbeth the greatness he is to gain, and Banquo says, " Why 
do you start, and seem to fear things that do sound so fair?" Macbeth knows 
it is not because of surprise at the very idea, but rather a superstitious excite- 
ment because these creatures confirm in him a purpose he has long cher- 
ished. As lie says : — 

"This supernatural soliciting 
Cannot be ill, cannot be good: if ill, 
Why hath it given me earnest of success, 
Commencing in a truth ? 


I am Thane of Cawdor : 
If good, why do I yield to that suggestion 
Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair, 
And make my seated heart knock at my ribs, 
Against the use of nature ? " 

And so because the witches' prophecies agree with his desires, and two of 
them are fulfilled at once, while an easy opportunity for him to fulfill the last 
is furnished, he is urged on, and rushes headlong into the crime. 

Think now of Raskolnikoff. The murder had been first suggested to 
him in a subtle guise. At his earliest visit to the money-lender he had 
acquired a loathing for her, and on leaving her and seating himself in a res- 
taurant he heard two students talking of her. " This alone struck Raskol- 
nikoff as very peculiar. No doubt it was pure chance, but at the moment 
he was struggling against an impression he could not overcome ; this 
stranger's words came and gave extra force to it." The student told of 
her riches and her wickedness, and ended by proposing that it would be 
a good deed to kill her. " ' I would kill that damnable old hag, and take 
all she is possessed of, without any qualm of conscience,' exclaimed the 
student, excitedly. The officer laughed, but Raskolnikoff shuddered. The 
words just uttered so strongly echoed his own thoughts. ' Let me put a 
serious question to you,' resumed the student, more and more excited. ' I 
have hitherto been joking, but now listen to this.' .... 'A dozen 
families might be saved from hunger, want, ruin, crime, and misery, and 
all with her money ! Kill her, I say ; take it from her, and dedicate it to 
the service of humanity and the general good ! What is your opinion ? 
Shall not one little crime be effaced and atoned for by a thousand good 
deeds?' .... Raskolnikoff was in the greatest agitation. Still, there was 
nothing extraordinary in this conversation ; it was not the first time he had 
heard, only in other forms and on other topics, such ideas from the lips of 
the young and hot-headed. But why should he, of all men, happen to over- 
hear such a conversation and such ideas, when the very same thoughts were 
being engendered in himself? And why precisely then, immediately on 
his becoming possessed of them and on leaving the old woman ? Strange, 
indeed, did this coincidence appear to him. This idle conversation was 
destined to have a fearful influence on his destiny, extending to the most 


trifling incident, and causing him to feel sure he was the instrument of a 
fixed purpose." He, like Macbeth, long meditated on his plan, when one 
day he received a letter from his mother which showed how urgently she 
and his beloved sister needed his help. As the author says, " It was plain 
now was not the time to grieve, to be passive, and reason on unanswerable 
questions." One more reason for the crime ! But he threw the suggestion 
off again until, by mere chance, he overheard a conversation in the street 
which told him just when he would be certain to find the woman alone. 
From that moment he believed himself " the instrument of some purpose. 
. . . He felt that now all liberty of action and free will were gone, and every- 
thing was irrevocably decided." Enough has been said to show how strong 
was the belief of both Macbeth and Raskolnikoff in the importance of 

These murderers possessed a common love of truth. Macbeth, even 
during his crime, keeps to the truth instinctively. For example, after the 
murder of the king and before its discovery, when Lenox asks him, "Goes 
the king hence to-day?" Macbeth replies, "He does." And then remember- 
ing the real state of the case adds, to qualify his reply, "He did appoint so." 
His truth made his face frank and open. 

Lady Macbeth, feeling she needs to caution him, says : — 

"Your face, my thane, is as a book, where men 
May read strange matters. 
To beguile the time, 

Look' like the time; bear welcome in your eye, 
Your hand, your tongue: look like the innocent flower, 
But be the serpent under 't." 

So, too, Raskolnikoff endeavors always to avoid the necessity of denying 
his connection with the murder. When accused of it he says : "Remember I 
have confessed to nothing. Pray do not forget that." His telltale face and 
actions are continually attracting much attention, and really betray his guilt. 

The idea of publicly suffering for their crime was hard to both Macbeth 
and Raskolnikoff. Macbeth preferred to die rather than 

" To kiss the ground before young Malcolm's feet, 
And to be baited with the rabble's curse." 


To Easkolnikoff the cross-questionings of inquisitive accusers, and the 
astonishment of men unable to understand him, is torture. 

It does not seem strange that, notwithstanding the wide difference in 
their surroundings, the effect of the crime should have been much the same 
upon them both. Murder would necessarily bring upon a man of any age 
the consequences it brought to them. No sooner is the crime performed than 
Macbeth knows his peace of mind is forever gone. He does not rejoice in 
the fact that he will now be king, but says in frenzy : — 

"Methought I heard a voice cry, 'Sleep no more! 
Macbeth does murder sleep.' . . . 
Glamis hath murder' d sleep, and therefore Cawdor 
Shall sleep no more; Macbeth shall sleep no more!" 

And his prophecy was true, for Lady Macbeth says to him later, "You lack 
the season of all natures, sleep." So, too, Raskolnikoff is haunted by 
dreams, visions, delirium, both sleeping and waking, until he reaches the 
verge of madness. 

How each seeks to wash away the telltale blood, to hide all traces of the 
crime, and yet believes that they can never be effaced, — that they must ever 
betray him to the world ! The anguish is the same to each, — the dread of dis- 
covery, the haunting memory of crime. And finally for each comes the 
culmination, — for Macbeth, death; for Raskolnikoff, exile. 

. There are more striking differences than likenesses between these men. 
In the first place, we know them very differently. Macbeth, the center of a 
drama, we see in action, and, as far as his character goes, merely in outline 
and suggestion. We cannot follow every phase of his mental state step by 
step, as we can Raskolnikoff 's. But Macbeth, the picturesque, brave, wild 
Scottish chieftain, is a great contrast to Raskolnikoff, the threadbare, morbid, 
intellectual student. Macbeth belongs to a type with which we are familiar 
now only in history ; but of Raskolnikoff s we read and hear every day. The 
former belongs to the past, — to the age of action as opposed to the nineteenth 
century extreme of introspection. 

The situation of the two men is different enough to make their characters 
very different. Macbeth was rich, powerful, influential, esteemed ; while 
Rodion Raskolnikoff, twice the man intellectually and morally that Macbeth 
was, had everything to contend against. Poor and obscure, and, ten times 


worse, poor and obscure in Russia ; and yet, longing in Russia to be some- 
thing else, he became of necessity thoroughly revolutionary in his ideas. 

Macbeth was pre-eminently ambitious. In that fact we find the keynote 
to all his career of crime. That is the chief, nay, more, the only charge we 
can at first make against him. He shows his knowledge of himself in the 

" I have no spur 
To prick the sides of my intent but only 
Vaulting ambition." 

And virtues he had many. I cannot agree with the critics who say that Lady 
Macbeth showed her real ignorance of his character when she said, 

" Thou wouldst be great; 
Art not without ambition ; but without 

The illness should attend it: 
What thou wouldst highly, 

That wouldst thou holily ; 
Wouldst not play false, 

And yet wouldst wrongly win." 

It seems, rather, that there she truly judges her husband. Ambition, in 
the same sense of the word, Raskolnikoff did not possess. He was too pes- 
simistic, too indifferent to the world, and too much out of harmony with the 
existing order of society, to be ambitious for the emoluments of position. 

Earlier in this paper it was said that they were alike in a desire to change 
their lot, but that their reasons were different. Macbeth's reason was selfish 
ambition ; Raskolnikoff's was a perfectly justifiable desire for a better chance 
in the world. It was his method of seeking the chance which was wrong. 
He desired earnestly to be a student, to help uplift the world, to do great 
things, and yet all the time he was dragging down his mother and sister. 

One thing which makes Macbeth's crime seem positively ugly is its utter 
selfishness and baseness. The king had been his friend and benefactor, and 
he showed his gratitude by killing him. Raskolnikoff owed nothing to the 
old woman personally, except one's debt to every human being. 

Macbeth was noted for his physical bravery. A soldier says, "Brave 
Macbeth, well he deserves that name." Yet with that sreat courage he 
coupled a nervous susceptibility and timidity which were remarkably intense. 
The sight of the ghost is overpowering to him. He cries to it, — 


" What man dare, I dare: 
Approach thou like the rugged Russian hear, 
The arm'd rhinoceros, or the Hyrcan tiger; 
Take any shape but that, and my firm nerves 
Shall never tremble : or be alive again, 
And dare me to the desert with thy sword; 
If trembling I inhabit then, protest me 
The baby of a girl. Hence, horrible shadow! 
Unreal mockery, hence!" 

It seems that all his life he had been particularly sensitive to the super- 
natural. He tells us, — 

" The time has been, my senses would have cool'd 
To hear a night-shriek; and my fell of hair 
Would at a dismal treatise rouse and stir, 
As life were in't." 

It was this sensitiveness which, as we have said, led him on to the mur- 
der by force of coincidences. After he had committed the first murder 
this nervousness increased to a perfectly overwhelming and frightful extent. 
It seems as if conscience, instead of taking the usual form of remorse, pun- 
ished him by thus distorting and magnifying his imagination as to the dangers 
surrounding him. 

Raskolnikoff does not give one the impression of either physical bravery 
or cowardice. Simply, bravery is not one of his marked characteristics. 
But he is stronger than Macbeth in his control over his imagination as far as 
fear of the supernatural goes. It seems, however, as if the fear which is so 
appropriate in treating of a man of Macbeth's time, is compensated for in 
Raskolnikoff 's character by his excessive fear of discovery. In this fear he 
shows the most vivid imagination and the most powerful nervous agitation. 

It is very striking to note the different effects which the committal of 
the first crime has on the two men. Macbeth, when he has killed Duncan, 
is so anxious to render discovery impossible, and so intensely fearful of it, 
that he commits murder after murder utterly mercilessly. When once 
launched on the path he lets nothing stand in his way. His original motive 
to crime, i. e., his ambition, leads him to all excesses of murder. But Ras- 
kolnikoff , when he has committed the murder, is so overcome by the horror 
of it that he cannot even cany out his immediate purpose in performing the 
crime; i. e., taking Alena's gold. The jewelry he does take he hides in the 


earth away from his sight. His only effort later is to avoid detection, and 
his attitude toward others is a more kindly one than ever before. This dif- 
ference seems to show that Macbeth was lacking in the sensitiveness charac- 
teristic of Raskolnikoff . Deeds of violence would naturally have been much 
more familiar to him, but that does not explain all ; he lacked the finer feel- 
ings which Raskolnikoff naturally possessed to a great degree. Raskolnikoff 
could never become sufficiently hardened to continue the practice of crime. 
With all his theories the horror of it was too great for him. 

Macbeth's idea of the nature of crime was also quite different from Ras- 
komikoff's. Macbeth does not claim that it is morally either right or wrong. 
But he fears it, both because he dreads its effect upon his mind and because 
he fears the consequences in his life. As he expresses it : — 

" If it were done, when 'tis done, then 'twere well 
It were done quickly : if the assassination 
Could trammel up the consequence, and catch, 
With his surcease success; that but this blow 
Might be the be-all and the end-all here, 
But here, upon this bank and shoal of time, 
We' Id jump the life to come." 

He fears inability to do the work completely ; fears they have ' ' scotched 
the snake, not killed it." Raskolnikoff is a firm believer in his own theory 
that the extraordinary have the right to kill the ordinary. His only trouble 
is the doubt whether he is not himself one of the "vermin," and therefore 
unfitted to kill. For he believes the murder should be turned to good ac- 
count, and he seems unable to make use of the one he has committed. His pur- 
pose in doing it was, he says in one place, to demonstrate that he dared do it, and 
therefore to show himself superior. "When I committed murder it was not to 
relieve my mother's misfortunes, nor to devote to the well-being of humanity 
the power and wealth which, in my opinion, such a deed ought to help me to 
acquire. No, no ; such thoughts were not mine. At that moment I did not 
in any way care to know if I should benefit anyone, or if I should continue 
for the remainder of my life a social parasite. Neither was money the main 
factor in the deed. No ; another reason induced me to commit it. I see that 
now. Understand me : if the past could be recalled, I should most probably 
not do so again. But, at the time being, I longed to know if I was vermin, 
like the majority, or a Man, in the full acceptance of the word; whether, in 


fact, I had the power to break through obstacles ; if I was a timorous crea- 
ture, or if I had the right 'What ! the right to kill?' cried Sonia, stupe- 
fied. 'Yes, Sonia.' " But at another time, when in a different state of mind, 
he believed his motive to have been a desire to place himself in a position to 
help his fellow-men . The truth was , that in his theorizing he had rendered him- 
self incapable of a calm, unbiased view of the matter. As far as thought of the 
sin of the act went, he honestly did not believe in that in any ordinary sense of 
the word. But he had more belief in God and a future life than Macbeth. 

Macbeth was essentially selfish in his aim. He loved his wife, and in- 
cluded her in all thoughts of success, but we know of no side to his char- 
acter, nor can we imagine one, corresponding to Raskolnikoff 's deep, sincere 
interest in the suffering of the world around him. 

To sum up, then, in a word, the comparison of these two characters, 

Macbeth is a representation of a class of men living in every age : the men 

who are not pure villains, like Iago, but who, through the influence of some 

dominating passion, or because of some moral lack, commit a first crime, are 

drawn more deeply in, until they say with Macbeth : — 

"My way of life 
Is fall'n into the sear, the yellow leaf: 
And that which should accompany old age, 
As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends, 
I must not look to have ; but, in their stead, 
Curses, not loud, but deep, mouth-bonour, breath 
Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not." 

The only possible outcome of the career of such men is death, either at the 
hand of justice or revenge, or, maddened and despairing, at their own. 

Raskolnikoff represents, on the other hand, a much more unusual type. 
He is one of those whom circumstances of birth and education, in connec- 
tion with natural tendencies, place outside the ordinary tenets and limits of 
society. To them law is not law, justice is not justice, until all things be- 
come distorted and they lose all sense of proportion. Then they commit 
crime until some influence brings them to themselves, and makes possible for 
them a new life on earth. For Raskolnikoff, the influence was the love of 
Sonia, and it led him slowly back until he realized in his delirium in Siberia 
his mistake, and the evil his theories would bring if practiced in the world. 

Helex Foss. '94. 



'Twas the youngest child of the Mother Moon, 

Slender, shivering, shy; 
And the hard old stars, with their pitiless eyes, 

Looked from the endless sky. 

We are lingering there where the river is high, 

Marie and I and the moon; 
O let not the love of my life pass by ! 

Let her turn to me tenderly soon. 

We are waiting again in the moonlight fair, 

While gold fills the delicate ring; 
And Love, unbound on the sorrowing air, 

Has unfolded his wings to sing. 

She is rising heavily old and late ; 

But the fragrance of incense I offer her still, 
For she carries my sorrow away through Earth's gate, 

And a little new moon lies over the hill. 

Florence Annette Wing, '92. 


We were sailing far out on Nantucket Bay in the Black Ladye. The 
Black Ladye was a small catboat, painted black, with her name in gilt 
letters on the stern. The wind was strong, and we cut swiftly through the 
water, the white spray falling over our boat's side and wetting our hands 
and faces. Carl held the mainsheet, and I the tiller. We were very young 
to be out alone, — Carl was fourteen and I thirteen, — but then, we were ex- 
pert sailors, and knew every trick of the wind and every turn of the current. 
To-day we were bound for "Eal's Point," a small peninsula of sand, with 
the sea on one side and the bay on the other, and in the boat's small cabin 
was a basket filled with a glorious luncheon of sandwiches, chicken, cake, 
and pickles, and some fish lines and hooks, and a little tin box with unhappy 
red worms crawling in the sand put there for their comfort. We were going 
to have a happy, happy time all to ourselves, Carl and I, for the next day I 
must return to the city. 

And so we sped along before the wind, I bravely trying with my 
small strength to steer in a straight line, and Carl clinging to the mainsheet 


with one hand and helping me hold the tiller with the other. At last we 
neared the shore of "Eal's Point," anchored our boat on the calm side in a 
small cove, and climbed up the soft, wet, yielding beach to firmer ground. 
No house nor tree was in sight ; only stunted pines, and small huckleberry 
bushes, and rocks. We sang and laughed with delight as we saw the sun 
freckling the blue bay, and the white gulls swooping down and dipping their 
wings in the water ; for were we not free to do as we pleased, away from all 
the rest of the world, alone with each other? For we were old comi-ades, 
and ever the best of friends. Carl was tall and strong, with a shock of red- 
dish-yellow hair, a very sunburned nose, and blue, innocent eyes, which now 
seemed almost colorless in contrast with his tanned skin. I was small for 
my age, thin and agile ; my eyes were darker than his, and my hair lighter, 
and my nose redder. But Carl said that he liked my face because it always 
looked happy, and I liked his because it was always kind and good-natured. 
And, indeed, we both looked the embodiment of happiness and good-nature 
as I spread our feast on a flat rock covered with sun-dried moss, and Carl 
untangled the fish lines and stuck the cruel hooks into the little, writhing 
bodies of the worms. I always made him bait our hooks, for I could not 
bear to see them suffer, and always hid my head when he did it. But with 
Carl it was different, for, thought I, boys are made not to mind such things, 
since some one has to do them. 

We spent the first of the afternoon fishing diligent!}', and then we took 
our seats on each side of the moss-grown table and ate with increased dili- 
gence. But when the shadows began to lengthen, and the waves — having 
made fast progress in the last two hours — were creeping up almost to our 
feet and breaking in white foam over the sand, and then quickly retreating 
to gain more force for a braver advance ; when the strong wind had died 
down, and the whole Point had grown so still that it startled us to hear our 
own voices, we sat together on the shore, filling our hands with sand and 
letting it fall through our fingers, looking dreamily over the sea and up at 
the sky, impressed and awed by the beauty and stillness around us. We 
were very happy, though we hardly knew why. I think often, even in 
thoughtless childhood, there will come moments of deeper happiness than 
gayety and light-heartedness. It was so with Carl and me. We were not 
thinking very hard ; our minds were quite vacant ; we were just glad to be 


living. At least, I was not thinking, but Carl must have been, for he now 
broke the silence. 

" Berta," he said (I had been christened Roberta, but I disliked the 
long name, and early refused to be called by it), " Berta, I wish you were 
a boy." 

" Why ; do you think I would be nicer?" I was rather hurt that I did 
not please him as I was. 

" O no, not really nicer; but what larks we could have camping out 
and going in swimming ! Girls can't have any fun." 

" I wish I was one, too," I answered regretfully. " But you must like 
me as I am, Carl, or you wouldn't take me sailing." 

" I do like you — better than anyone else. You are so awfully plucky. 
I shall never forget you. You will forget me, though, — girls always forget," 
and Carl looked as if he had won his wisdom by experience. 

"I shall not forget. I shall love you always !" 

"O, I know how it will be. This winter you will meet some other 
boy, and next winter some other, and when you are grown up I will pass 
you on the street and you won't know me at all. But, will it be so, 
Berta?" Carl asked anxiously, quickly changing his voice, overcome by his 
own comfortless picture. 

"Indeed, no, Carl. I shall always, always remember." I closed my 
hands tightly in my vehemence, and my eyes flashed. 

After this we were silent again for a long time. The sun had almost 
set, the air was growing chill, the waves had risen and were noisier. I 
thought it time to start home, and rose to shake the sand from my clothes. 

"Wait, Berta; see what I made yesterday. I cut it out of a ten-cent 
piece." Carl jumped up, and drew from his pocket a small silver ring. 
"When we are grown you will marry me? You needn't be a boy for that, 
you know," with a radiant smile; "and so it will be all right. You will, 
won't you?" 

"O, of course. I shall marry no one else. Is the ring for me?" 

"Yes; I want you to wear it, and when I am away you must look at 
it and think, 'Carl gave it to me. I must not forget him, for he loves me, 
and we shall soon be married.'" 

He spoke very earnestly, — so earnestly that I answered with serious, 



half-frightened eyes. "O Carl !" I said, "I do love you, and I shall never 
forget you," and we sealed our pledge with a right earnest kiss. 

It had grown late. We hurriedly gathered our things together in the 
boat, and started home. Our seriousness had vanished, and we sang all the 
way. By the time we reached the landing float it was quite dark, and so 
we raced through the streets and parted at my doorstep. But when he 
had gone a few yards, and I still stood outside watching him, — for I was going 
away on the early morning steamer, — he called back, "Berta ! remember the 
ring — don't forget ! " 

I wear the ring still. I am quite "grown up" now, and so is Carl. We 
have not seen each other since, but I do not need the ring to remember. 
Has Carl forgotten ? 

Dorothy Allen. 


Our world had need of her, but God unrolled 

His larger plan, and without word or stir, 

Answering glad the Voice that cannot err, 
She passed into the silence and His fold. 
Soft, mellow sunshine filled the earth with gold 

The day she left it. We that dare aver 

We live in deeds, not hours, know life, in her, 
Was nobly lived ere Psalmist's years were told. 

Father, thy will be done! All things are good 

Thou sendest us, altho' we think them ill; 
And what seems ill, thy plan misunderstood. 
We know she walks in brighter, happier ways 
To-day than yesterday, so give Thee praise, 

And smile thro' tears that mourn our leader still. 

Martha Gause McCaulley, '92. 

* Reprinted by request. 



The sun shone but dimly on a Christmas day five hundred years ago, as 
a gay party galloped over the wintry fields of Yorkshire. Leading the 
company rode the Princess Elizabeth, her black, heavily plumed hat setting off 
the blond fairness of her face, and her dark velvet gown fluttering in rich 
folds against the flank of her white palfrey. At her side, ruddy and strong, 
was her husband, Prince Lionel, clad not in the silks and satins of the 
courtiers, but in the plain gipoun and hood of gray stuff so much worn by 
the common people. The Prince was accompanied by his brother, John of 
Gaunt, whose clear-cut face was framed by the close-fitting cap of the times, — 
a face not yet marked by the lines which money-getting and money-holding 
brought to it so soon. Behind the royal party followed a brilliant train of 
knights and ladies, whom the Christmas season had overtaken at Hatfield, far 
from the gayeties of the court. Three sturdy yeomen, dressed in coats and 
hoods of green, who bore strung on their backs the terrible English long bow, 
rode last in the company, — and yet not last, for at some distance behind them 
followed, with thoughtful aspect, the Princess' young page, Geoffrey Chaucer. 

As he reined in his lithe little mare at the rear of the route, he felt all 
the dignity of the new red doublet and trunk hose that the Princess had that 
morning given him. They well became his boyish beauty, and one seeing 
him could not wonder at the preference which the gentle Princess showed 
him. His brown hair hung in silken lovelocks on his collar ; his small red 
cap was placed jauntily on the back of his head ; and his cheeks were flushed 
by the sharp wind. He seemed abstracted, but his thoughts were evidently 
pleasant ones, for there was a sly twinkle of fun in his eye, and he glanced 
meaningly at the stout yeoman in front of him. Plainly the small page was 
a joker in his boyish fashion, and the finely waxed bow, the pride of the 
broad-backed yeoman, was in danger when a diversion occurred. 

It was a curious figure which interrupted the mischievous schemes of 
Geoffrey Chaucer; it was the Lord of Misrule. He was a portly man, with 
a broad, red face and red beard. He was mounted upon a poor, broken- 
down hack; but, in spite of the poorness of his mount, he was dressed in 
truly regal fashion. His robe of mock-ermine was plentifully bespangled 
with gilt, and on his head was a gilt crown ; while his two privy councilors 


followed him. Evidently the Lord of Misrule had already tasted too often 
of the Christmas ale, for his seat was anything but firm ; nevertheless, he 
approached the merry company with great grandeur, and addressed the Prince 
in the tone which one mighty potentate would employ toward another. 

" Your highness," said he, "I have a complaint to offer. Your highness 
must, of a surety, remember the commandment issued but yestere'en that 
for all the week eaeh man and maid should show full obedience unto me. 
Nevertheless hath this lewd youth, Geoffrey Chaucer, the page of your lady, 
offended me in divers ways and set at naught my authority. He hath 
openly kissed Gillian, the young handmaiden of your lady ; and whilst 
I sat at meat with these fellows, my councilors, he hath put upon him my 
robe and crown, and hath made merry among his fellows in mockery of me. 
In truth, when he hath ended his jollity he hath left my robe and crown in 
the granary, where, at last, I found them. Now, I pray your lordship to 
trebly reward him for his misdeeds." 

Prince Lionel turned with a frown, for, in truth, this favorite page of 
his wife's was not dear to him. There rode the demure youth in the rear 
of the company, with an apprehensive eye fastened upon the poor Lord of 
Misrule, who, overcome with a sense of his own injuries, was shedding 
maudlin tears. 

' ' Now, sirrah ! " cried the irate Prince Lionel, not glancing at his wife's 
pleading face, " thy Christinas mummery is over. Go to the turret cham- 
ber and stay there until it is my pleasure to see thee. Perchance long 
thought and hunger will teach thee to mind thy ways. John Bowman, 
take Master Geoffrey Chaucer to the north turret room, and bar fast the 

Forth stepped the burly yeoman, and as he grasped tightly Geoffrey's 
arm, the poor little page looked about for some means of escape. But big 
John, the bowman, held him fast; and poor Chaucer was led away with 
blushing cheeks and hanging head, followed by the sly glances and smiles 
of the ladies in waiting. 

Up the narrow, winding stair John Bowman led the yielding boy ; away 
from the merry party, from the Christmas gayeties, from the warmth and 
the light, into solitude, into somber and angry thought, into the cold 
grayness of the turret room. The chamber was high and ill- lighted ; the 


one window cut into the thick stone wall was paned with knotty grayish 
glass. It contained a heavy wooden bench and a dilapidated wardrobe ; 
otherwise there was no furniture. It was, in fact, the prison room of the 
castle, where many a refractory page before Geoffrey Chaucer had been 
placed to await repentance. The door creaked mournfully as the taciturn 
John Bowman, who had not spoken during the ascent, closed it behind him ; 
the heavy bar sank into its place with a thud, and Geoffrey Chaucer was left 
to listen to the receding footsteps of the yeoman, — a prisoner. 

Down below the festivities went on as gayly as if the poor little page had 
been there, and now and then the sounds of merriment floated up to him. 
The great Yule log was borne in upon the shoulders of stalwart servants,, 
carefully put in its place, and lighted ; the Lord of Misrule conducted his out- 
of-door sports, watched from the balconies by the guests ; the Christmas din- 
ner was eaten, and the gay maskers had come, made merry before the guests, 
and had gone again. All down stairs was light and motion. 

Chaucer, however, up in his narrow turret room, sat shivering on his 
hard bench, angry, stubborn, and, more than all, aggrieved. He looked out 
at the sullen gray landscape with eyes as somber as the sky ; looked out until 
it became too dark to see the occasional snowflake that fluttered aimlessly 
down. Up from below, into his solitude, came now and then a shout of 
boisterous laughter, and the blare of music from the merrymakers in the big 
kitchen ; while occasionally a flood of light poured out into the darkness 
from an opened door. His heart was full of a boy's unreasoning bitterness. 
He was estimating the distance from his turret window to the ground, and 
dreaming of making his escape and winning fame in the French wars, when 
he heard a step outside his door, the bar was softly lifted, the door opened, 
and Gillian entered. 

She bore a big wooden trencher piled with dainties from the Christmas 
feast, and over her arm hung a long furred cloak of velvet, which Geoffrey 
recognized at a glance as the Princess' own. 

"Geoffrey," she gasped, as her eyes peered into the shadows of the 
dusky room and espied the crouching figure by the window, ' ' Geoffrey, thou 
art here? I must needs hasten back, for they will miss me below ; but I have 
brought some of the dainties from the feast and this warm cloak of fur. 
Prince Lionel is cruel, — cruel to spoil for you the Christmas feast." 


She looked distractingly pretty and friendly, this young girl, as she 
stood there, panting and rosy, with a look of fear in her dark eyes and her 
brows drawn together in a little frown. Her black skirt, with the white 
smock embroidered with black, and girdled with a silver-barred ceint of silk, 
was richly picturesque in the pale light of the candle which she bore ; and she 
seemed to the tired and hungry boy like a rosy flesh-and-blood angel, come 
from the heaven out of which he was banished to tell him that he was not 
forgotten there. 

The room seemed very gloomy as she hastened away, but she left behind 
her substantial proof that her entrance had not been a dream ; and as Geof- 
frey wrapped himself in the warm fur mantle and appeased his hunger, life 
at Hatfield seemed more endurable, and the French wars less inviting. 

Downstairs some one had remembered the outcast page besides little Gil- 
lian. They were sitting about the blazing yule log in the grand old hall, — 
the prince and princess, John of Gaunt, and the knights and ladies of the 
court, when the Princess Elizabeth said, with a little sigh : — 

"My page was to have sung to us some of his songs to-night, dear 
brother. He maketh many ballades and singeth them to his lute. My sweet 
bird goes to the court with us in the springtime, and there he will sing before 
the king." 

"And prithee, sister, are his songs in truth so seemly?" queried John of 
Gaunt, ever eager for some new sensation. "Why could he not come down 
and sing to us, parfay? Brother, he hath full well payed the penalty of his 
merry jest with the Lord of Misrule." 

Prince Lionel smiled indulgently upon his younger brother, and granted 
his request. Perhaps his heart softened a little at the thought of the merry 
Geoffrey, a prisoner, hungry and cold, in the dismal turret room. At once 
John of Gaunt sprang to his feet and hastened from the hall, up the narrow, 
winding stair to the chamber. Inside his prison Geoffrey heard steps upon 
the stairs in time to conceal hastily the mantle and trencher in the old ward- 
robe, so when the door opened he sat in his bright doublet upon his rough 
bench in an attitude of meditation. 

As he looked up and saw there his master's brother, thoughts of some 
dire punishment to be inflicted upon him filled his mind ; but the smiling face 
of John of Gaunt banished these fears as he came forward with outstretched 
hand, frank and cordial. 


" Come, Master Chaucer; the Prince, my brother, wishes your presence 
in the hall with the Princess and the ladies. My sister wishes that you sing 
us some of your merry songs." 

John of Gaunt and Geoffrey Chaucer entered the fire-lit hall together, 
Geoffrey blinking in the brilliancy of the light, and somewhat shamefaced 
as he greeted the company ; but at the kindly welcome of the Princess and the 
nod of the Prince, the last remains of ill humor faded from his mind, and he 
became his merry, boyish self again. 

Soon his lute was brought forth, and he sang ballad after ballad, while 
the fire light flickered, now high, now low, sometimes lighting up the tapestry- 
hung walls and the deep-set windows, the high, carved oaken chairs and the 
burnished shields upon the walls, now dying down until it left in shadow the 
slender, graceful figure in the crimson doublet. And the clear voice filled 
the large hall with soft French ballades and virelais, and with stirring Saxon 
battle songs. At last Geoffrey Chaucer, tossing back the brown curls from 
his face, sang a Christmas carol which had shaped itself in his mind during 
the solitude of the afternoon. It was a simple thing, boyish and crude, but 
it came from the heart, and as he sang, John of Gaunt leaned to the Princess 
and said, "Your singer must go to the court, parfay." 

The voice ceased, and the great yule log burned lower and lower. The 
knights and ladies went away to rest, and the Christmas revels were done, 
but sitting there by the fire until late, the two boys talked eagerly over the 
present and the future ; and if Geoffrey Chaucer had lost the gayeties of the 
Christmas day, he had gained a life-long friend. 

Annie F. Wilson, '96. 


What golden ways, 

Those college days, 
We rode and rode together! 

Leaving behind 

The weary grind, 
We wheeled away with lightsome mind 

From cap and gown, 

From student-frown, 
Into the autumn weather. 


Glowing with sense 

Of life intense, 
And zest of life wild-hearted, 

Above, we knew 

The sky was blue, 
So on we flew, and on we flew, 

The while the air, 

A champagne rare, 
Our sleeping pulses started. 

On, spinning faster, 

We saw the aster, 
Its frosted purples fling • 

By wayside wall, 

And over all 
The woodbine weave its scarlet shawl ; 

And, dimmed its gold 

At touch of cold, 
The golden-rod upspring. 

On hill-top higher, 

A fringe of fire 
The sumacs took the breeze. 

And Oh, we sighed, 

What bliss to ride 
Forever this October-tide, 

Finding anew 

The golden, true 
Fabled Hesperides! 

Then, musing, slow 

We used to go 
When distant far from town; 

And on the wold 

Leaves manifold 
Fell, carpeting our way with gold. 

How loth they fell 

I mind me well, 
How sadly circled down ! 

Or, book in hand, 
Through that sweet land 

We read the Lotos Eaters, 
On every line 
October's shine 

Shedding a witchery divine ; 

While wafts unsought 
Came, memory-brought, 

Of soft Sicilian metres. 


Cathedral shades 

The woodland glades 
Drew down upon our roaming, 

As, homeward turned, 

The ground we spurned, 
While one white star above us burned ; 

And mystic-sober 

Became October 
Gray in the quiet gloaming. 

Such golden ways, 

Those college days, 
We rode in sun and breeze; 

We left behind 

The weary grind, 
And wheeled away with lightsome mind, 

Finding anew 

The golden, true 
Fabled Hesperides. 

Florence Wilkinson, '92. 


The sun rose clear on Class Day morning. With the first faint light 
in the east came the sound of hurrying footsteps and cheerful voices. As 
the early pedestrian passed the college gates, he knew that preparations for 
the day had already begun. 

Before the sun was high the broad campus presented an attractive 
picture. The grass was rich and soft, like velvet. The trees swayed a 
little, and among the branches swung rows of gay lanterns, suggestive of 
coming festivities. Decorators' wagons, half unloaded, lined the driveways. 
Groups of men in broad-brimmed hats were stationed in critical attitudes 
about the grounds, noting the effect of decorative design on hall and dormi- 
tory. Here and there a man laden with ferns and laurel came rushing over 
the green, hurrying to give the finishing touches to his room before the 
arrival of his friends. There was a light breeze blowing in from the river. 
The faces of the men were expectant. Dick Hamilton looked at his watch, 
and whistled, "Promise Me." 

" Five minutes before train time," he said ; and with a last look at the 
windows of 9 Worthington, he struck across the campus at an easy, swing- 


ing pace, out into the main thoroughfare beyond. Dick Hamilton was a 
good sort of a fellow, so the other men said, — and they knew. The women 
who knew him said that he had a taking way. A little girl once said about 
him that she liked him because he was so gentle and ladylike ; but she did 
not mean by that that he was in the least effeminate. 

His family lived in California. They had visited him the year before, 
so were not coming to see him graduated. He had made a good many 
friends, however, during his four years' course, and some of them were 
coming out from town for his Class Day. He was on his way to meet 

" Hard luck," he observed to himself, " when a fellow hasn't a relative 
so much as a sixteenth cousin within a thousand miles of him. A fellow 
wants some one he cares about on his Class Day. 'Twill be sort of a bore," 
he added, half aloud. 

He did not look in the least bored, however, when the train came in a 
few moments later, and a pleasant party of young people alighted with 
bright faces and warm greetings. They were laughing, and looked as 
though they were having a good time. 

Dick met his friends gracefully, as was usual with him. 

" We will go right up to the rooms," he said. " You won't care for 
the morning exercises much ; but there'll be plenty to see, and some good 
fun this afternoon." 

Just then some one touched his arm lightly. He turned, and saw a 
girl with a large bunch of English violets in her hand. Her eyes were the 
color of the flowers. She was very pretty. 

"I think this is Mr. Hamilton," she said. "I heard your friends 
speak to you." She had been looking at him earnestly as she spoke. 
Suddenly she gave him a merry smile. 

"Dick, don't you know me?" she cried. "I'm your cousin, Kate 
Haverland ! " 

Dick looked at her in a bewildered way. It was veiy embarrassing. 
There must be some mistake ; but her next words seemed to show there 
could be none. 

" Why, Dick, I would have known you anywhere ! You look just as 
natural, though I haven't seen you for so many years. Don't you remem- 


ber the summers at grandfather's, where we used to play together? 0, 
did you miss my letter?" 

Dick's friends were looking at him in a surprised way. It was 
awkward, certainly; but he felt that he must make a break, and say some- 
thing. Suddenly a light flashed across his mind. "To be sure, how 
stupid ! " he thought. He had sent dozens of complimentaries to his 
l'elatives in the West, half of whom he did not know, for he belonged to a 
large family. His mother had sent him a list of names which he had not 
even read through, but had hired a fellow to copy them and address the 
envelopes, for he had been rushed just then. It came to him now that she 
must be some one who lived nearer than he thought, or had come East on a 
visit. This passed through his mind very quickly. He even had time to 
vow he would never be so rash again. 

"I hope you will pardon me, Miss Hav — cousin Kate," he said. 
"You see I missed your letter, and you're — changed so I didn't recognize 
you at first. But I'm awfully glad to see you. Come, let me introduce 
you to my friends. Mrs. Campbell, I want you to meet my cousin, Miss 
Haverland. I haven't seen her since — since — I was a small lad," he added, 

"Very small," said the girl. "You used to try to frighten me by 
putting June bugs in my hair." 

" Did I ? " said Dick, thoughtfully. " What a bore I must have been." 

If Mrs. Campbell, the jolly chaperone, felt any surprise about this 
interesting cousin, she was too well bred to show it. She had a happy way 
of putting people at their ease ; and Dick was very grateful to her when he 
saw how quickly she made his cousin one of the party. The girl's broad, 
Western accent betrayed her, and Dick felt himself on firm ground when he 
said, " How long have you been East, cousin Kate?" 

" O," she replied, "I forgot that you didn't know anything about 
me. I told you in the letter. We got here a week ago, mamma and I, and 
she was so sorry she couldn't come to-day. She had one of her bad head- 
aches. She didn't want me to come alone ; but I said it would be all right, 
we were such old playmates. It was all right, wasn't it?" 

She looked up at him wistfully as she spoke. 

"Of course it was," he said; "it would have been a great mistake for 
you not to have come." 


Dick wondered very much to which side of the family she belonged. 
He tried to recall the summers he had spent when a lad at his grandfather's. 
It was odd she remembered him so well. He wished that the rest of the 
party would stop talking and let him think. In fact, he wished a number of 
impossible things during the short walk from the station to the rooms. 

The rooms were very homelike. Two of them were his own, and one 
he had procured for the day. There were a good many pictures on the walls, 
which could not be called works of art, but they gave the place a cheerful air. 

He was a capital host, and his guests were very jolly. The time passed 
rapidly, and it was not until after luncheon had been served that he had a 
chance to talk with his cousin, except in a general way. He had been 
thinking a good deal about her, and the definite conclusion to which he had 
come was that her hair had an unusually attractive wave. He wondered 
how she managed it. 

There were a few moments before the afternoon exercises, and he was 
glad of a chance to sit down by her while the others were busy with books 
and engravings. 

" I have been trying to think," he began 

"So have I," said the girl. "You're like yourself, and you're not. 
But do you know," she went on, "I think you are lots nicer than you used 
to be ! " 

Dick smiled. "Was I such a bore, then, when you knew me before?" 
he said. 

"Well, no, not what one would call a bore, exactly. You were well 
enough, but" 

" But what?" persisted Dick. 

< ' Do you remember the time when grandfather caught us stealing 
cherries, and gave you a whipping?" 

" I remember the last part," said Dick, truthfully. 

" Well, and do you remember what you said about me?" 

" I stood up for you, didn't I, and said it wasn't your fault?" 

" No ; you said that if Kate hadn't been such a pig, you wouldn't have 
got caught any way." 

Dick groaned. " Let's talk about something else," he said. 

Kate Haverland had also been puzzled that morning. It had been hard 


for her to reconcile the graceful young host with the rough little playmate 
she remembered well. She had not been altogether frank when she had told 
Dick she would have known him anywhere. She had seen that he was 
embarrassed, and it had fallen from her lips unthinkingly, but, in the very 
act of saying it, it had become in a measure true to her; and by the time 
luncheon was over she had traced to herself the possible development from 
the angular boy of ten or twelve to the young man with his manner of 
unstudied ease. 

After the reminiscence about the cherries she looked at him in silence. 
He grew uneasy under her steady gaze. He was a sensitive fellow, — so 
ridiculously sensitive that it troubled him to think that he had ever made 
such an ungallant remark about a girl, particularly about his cousin Kate. 
He wanted to ask her just how she was his cousin, but he realized that 
to suggest his ignorance might put her in an unpleasant position. He was 
absurdly delicate about it, and said nothing. 

"I haven't iisked about your people yet," she said, at length. "Won't 
they be here to-day?" 

"No," he replied a little regretfully. "It's rather too much of a journey 
to take for a fellow like me at the end of it." 

He thought she looked surprised, but she said quite gently : — 
" Perhaps they didn't know how much it would mean to you." Then 
she laughed as a new thought came to her. "One could never tell whether 
you were joking or not," she said. "Your eyes are laughing when your 
voice is quite sober." 

Just then some one called Dick away. He had no prominent part in the 
day's exercises. He would have laughed at the suggestion of such a thing ; 
but he was much in demand, for he was one of those whom everyone wants 
his friends to meet. 

It was late in the afternoon when he came quite breathless to his cousin's 
side and tossed into her lap a few hard-earned roses, — trophies of one of the 
contests of the day. 

The exercises were nearly over. The orations had been delivered. 
The class poet had sung his song. Fond mothers had watched their sons 
with loving pride, while pleased fathers had looked indifferent, and hummed 
little tunes to themselves constantly. 


The day had been beautiful, the enthusiasm intense. Everyone had the 
indefinable class-day feeling, which expresses itself in a wild desire to throw 
up one's hat and shout, and in every face was the happy anticipation of the 
evening, with its charm of twinkling lights among the trees, its gay banquet 
halls, and the merry dance. 

" I managed to get a few flowers," he said, as he dropped into the seat 
beside her. "You must keep them for luck, you know." 

"In memory of my first Class Day," said the girl, with a bright smile. 

" The nicest part comes in the evening, you know, when there are the 
lights, and the music, and everything. O, I wanted to ask you," he went 
on ; "you haven't promised many dances yet, have you, because I want you 
to save me at least three or four?" 

" For old sake's sake, I suppose," she said, laughing. " I'll remember." 

The dance was at its height. Clayton Hall, the center of attraction, 
was gay and beautiful. There was a rich fragrance of flowers in the air. 
The light tread of the dancers, the murmur of a hundred voices, and the 
steady rhythm of the music underlying all, made a deep, rushing sound not 
unlike a river with a strong undercurrent which guides its course to the sea. 

Dick Hamilton was dancing with his cousin Kate. 

"I'm sorry I've had so little chance to see you all day," he was saying ; 
" but it has been nice to have you here, though I couldn't be with you much." 

"I'm very glad I came," she said, simply. "Now that we have met 
again after so many years, I hope we shall see more of each other. I think 
it a mistake for families to grow apart as ours have done." 

"A very great mistake," said Dick, seriously. 

" Of course it isn't so strange after all," Kate continued, "since you are 
the only one in your family we have ever seen." 

Dick was glad for this information. He felt that he was coining nearer 
the solution of the day's problem. He was about to confess how little he 
remembered her, that he did not know even where she lived ; but at that 
moment he caught sight of a '94 man whom he knew slightly, who was 
looking intently at Kate Haverland. It was only an instant before they had 
whirled by, but during that instant there had been time for a doubt, which 
was almost certainty, to pass through Dick's mind and leave him confused 
and irresolute. The dance was over, but he did not speak as he led his 
partner across the hall. 


"Why don't you talk to me ?" she said. There was a kind of confidence 
in her voice. Her face was flushed a little, and her eyes were a deeper 
violet than before. 

Dick hesitated a moment longer. Then he said lightly : — 

" I was thinking about something. 'Twas so unusual, you see, it made 
me quite still. Will you save me the last dance? I believe there are two 

The last dance was a long one. No one was in a hurry to go. When, 
finally, the music died away, Dick's party went back to the rooms in Worth- 
ington. It was very late when they started for town. 

Kate had not expected to stay in the evening ; but Mrs. Campbell had 
urged her to wait and return with them ; and as Dick had had a wistful, dis- 
appointed look in his eyes when she had said she could not stay, she had 
decided at last to remain. 

"It has all been so beautiful," she said to Dick, as she gave him her 
hand in parting. " Of course you will come to see us while we are in the 
city ?" She was surprised when Dick evaded her question. 

"You are quite sure you are glad you stayed?" he said, earnestly. 

"Quite sure," she replied. 

" And you know how much I've enjoyed it ? " he continued, with curious 

"It is good of you to say so. I've had such a nice time. Good-bye." 

Dick stood looking at the car until it disappeared into the night. Then 
he turned and walked slowly away. 

The next day he wrote a letter. When it was finished he leaned back 
with a relieved sigh. The letter was as follows : — 

My dear Miss Haverland : 

I want to tell you again what a pleasure it was to me to have you at my Class 
Day. I was feeling a trifle blue when I saw the other fellows' mothers and sisters 
coming, and realized that mine were three thousand miles away. Things looked 
brighter after you came. 

But there is something I must tell you, which I am sure will explain many 

There is a Richard Leigh Hamilton, also a '94 man, who tells me he has a 
cousin Miss Haverland, and who also says that he used to be called Dick when he 


was a lad at home. Here he has always gone by his middle name. It was a very 
natural mistake for you to make. You hadn't seen him for years ; I was Dick 
Hamilton, and you thought I was your cousin. I forgive you for what you said 
about my looking natural. It happened that he was a little late for the train yes- 
terday morning, and just missed you. He didn't see you until evening, and then 
he was not sure it was you. 

But I have a confession to make. At the dance in Clayton I saw Leigh 
Hamilton looking at you in an odd way, as if he had seen you somewhere before. 
It flashed across me then that you had mistaken me for him, and that you ought 
by good rights to be his guest. 

You want to know why I didn't tell you at once? Well, possibly because I 
thought it would be awkward for you to discover right there that I wasn't your 
cousin, — in fact, that you didn't know who I was ; or possibly it was because I 
feared he might be pretty well cut up about it himself ; and possibly, just possi- 
bly, you know, it was because I was selfish enough to want that last dance with 
you. It was only two before the last that I saw him. 

I have told you all now. I am afraid you are very angry with me. I think, 
after all, I should have told you before, but I didn't have the courage. 

If the day was in any way pleasant to you, I ask you for the sake of the day 
itself, which was one of the brightest of my college life and will be longest remem- 
bered, to forget whatever unpleasantness you may feel toward me, and let me 
remain, Very cordially yours, 

George Dickinson Hamilton. 

It was two days later when Dick received the following reply : — 
To Mr. George Dickinson Hamilton : 

You are quite right in supposing me to be indignant at the deception prac- 
ticed upon me. How am I to know that it was only at the end of the day that 
you discovered my mistake? Do you realize not only that it was very bad form 
to let me go away under a false impression about you, but that it will put me in a 
very trying place when my friends know about it? Possibly you think they need 
not know. That is not my way. I shall tell them. 

I did enjoy Class Day. You were very good to me ; but after what has hap- 
pened I cannot feel sincerely grateful to you. I have thrown away the flowers 
you gave me. 

Kate Haverland. 

When Dick had read the note he sat quite still for a long time. It did 
not occur to him that there was anything childish in this exhibition of anger 


and wounded pride. Neither did he have a proper realization of the fact 
that he had been guilty of bad form. He was hurt that she had thrown 
away the flowers. 

It was nearly three months later, when the drowsy August days had 
given place to a cool September, that Leigh Hamilton and his cousin Kate 
Haverland were sitting on the broad piazza of the Frontenac, among the 
Catskills. Kate had laid aside the book she had been reading, and was lis- 
tening idly while her cousin related story after story of his college days. 

"By Jove, Kate," he said suddenly, " that was a rascally mean trick 
my namesake Hamilton played on me, though. The prettiest girl in Clay- 
ton, and I never had a dance with you! He's a mean What's the 

matter, Kate?" 

Kate Haverland stood before him, her eyes flashing a dark light. 

"Leigh Hamilton," she said, "let me never hear you speak in disre- 
spectful terms of a friend of mine again ! Mr. Hamilton did nothing but 
what any gentleman in his place must have done. I liked him very much. 
I never had such a good time in my life as I had that day ; and while I 
think of it, I heard him say he was to be at Sterling this month for the 
hunting, and I am going to send him a note to come over and call. 

Josephine Batchelder, '96. 


Slowly drifting, slowly drifting, while the sun's last rays are sifting 

Through the branches, dimly outlined 'gainst the summer evening sky; 
Till the stealthy creeping twilight brings soft shadows from the night; 
Lullaby, sweet lullaby. 

Gently gliding, gently gliding, unseen power the boat is guiding 

Into sheltered coves and inlets, where the waters stiller lie; 
Rocking with a dreamy motion, better than a sleeping potion, 
Lullaby, sweet lullaby. 

Softly falling, softly lifting are the waters ever shifting, — 

Shifting as the restless fancies that in sleep are nickering by; 
Till the stealthy creeping twiligbt brings soft shadows from the night, 
Lullaby, sweet lullaby. 



They bad forgotten that her name was Eugenie, and everyone called 
her "Jean." Her face wore that peculiar pallor which conies from the 
heated mill room ; and her eyes and hair, by contrast, were very dark indeed. 
Every line of her thin little features, and every gesture of her thinner hands, 
was French. 

She stood at the corner of Winslow's Lane. In front of her loomed 
the dark walls of the Gingham Mill, and the outlines of a tenement house 
rose tall and grim behind. Jean drew her shawl up under her chin and 
looked far down the street. 

The lights of the mills were darkened, and groups of loafers here and 
there were scattered along the sidewalks. Presently a man crossed the 
railroad bridge, and turned listlessly toward the corner. "Jean," said he. 
Jean tucked one thin hand under his arm and smiled. Between these two 
there was no need for words. 

They walked together for a space in silence; and when, at last, one 
spoke, it was to say very quietly, " They tell me the Banner Mills will shut 
down to-morrow night." Jean sighed; and the man's face, before quite 
passive, flushed suddenly an angry red. "If the Banner Mills close 
to-morrow night, they will never open again," he said, between his teeth ; 
but Jean pulled upon his sleeve, and he was still. Past the tall tenements 
they went, past row upon row of dreary lodging houses, down in the very 
heart of Winslow's Lane, to the dingy little house they called "home." 

It was not until the afternoon of the following day that Jean heard the 
news for truth. Then it came with dreary significance : " The Banner Mills 
have closed." "Where is Louis?" asked she, over and over, as one by 
one his friends passed by her on their way home from work. " Guess 
he'll be along soon ; he's thrown out with the rest of us," said one, and 
Jean stood patiently waiting. " He is afraid to come home and tell me," 
she thought in her heart ; and at intervals all that afternoon, the longest 
afternoon in Jean's whole life, she ran up to the corner, gazed wistfully 
down the dusty street, and as wistfully returned. Once as she made her 
pilgrimage a wan-faced woman stopped her. The woman was tall and stern- 


featured; her lips had a cynical curve. "Credit all gone at the grocery," 
she said. "Can't get so much as a quart of flour unless ye can show yer 
cash. They're sorry," she added, bitterly ; " leastways that's what they say." 
Jean put out a comforting little hand, but her smile was very faint. She 
had grown paler, had Jean, in that afternoon. Her eyes were beginning to 
look wide and strained. Her breath came almost like a sob. "I wouldn't 
mind," she sighed to herself, "if Louis would only come." 

Supper time drew near, and passed. The streets were full of angry 
men and women, some who had long been out of work, and others who had 
but just now been turned away by the closing of the Banner Mills. Although 
it was September, the heat was almost unbearable, and the babel in the 
houses behind her made Jean's head begin to whirl. She stood at the same 
old corner. Her red shawl, which she wore from habit, was twisted pictur- 
esquely about her head ; she did not realize its heat. She was looking, as 
usual, for Louis ; but among the little groups which crossed the railroad 
bridge he never came. 

The sun went down, and the sky quite lost its red. The darkness 
thickened, and all the stars came out. The streets grew slowly still, and 
half the first stars set. 

At one o'clock in the morning the night watchman at the Banner Mills 
would have told you all was well. At two o'clock the rear part of the 
boiler room was all enveloped with flames. The firebells rang, and the 
whistles from the different mills were rousing the sleeping town. A woman 
at the corner of Winslow's Lane raised a weary head to hear. She looked 
across the railroad bridge, and beyond it to the falls. "The Banner Mills !" 
said she; and the words seemed ringing in her ear, "If the Banner Mills 
close to-morrow night, they will never open again." 

Where was Louis ? Jean put both hands up over her eyes to shut out 
a horrible thought. She picked up the shawl, which had fallen at her feet, 
and sped swiftly down the road. Already the people were thronging, and 
the fire engines had come. Jean slipped between the trucks and rubbish- 
heaps until she could see the mill buildings. They stood on a little island 
about twenty feet from the shore, and a wooden bridge served as communica- 
tion with the broader streets near the bank. A slight railing ran along 
either side of the bridgeway as a guard against the treacherous edge, and 


all along these railings were perched little half-clad urchins, while here and 
there against the sky rose the taller shape of a man. Young girls with their 
eyes still dark with sleep and with their hair braided down their backs, 
sweet-faced women, and rough mill hands, alike were ranged along the 
shore. Friends of the owners and the overseers, friends of the laborers and 
the watchmen, — half the city had risen from their beds to give attendance 
to such a scene. Jean stood at about a yard from the bridge and looked. 
Her eyes were searching restlessly for a figure that they knew. At 
one side she could see the anxious faces of the manager's wife and daughters 
as they stood there, a forlorn little group. It hurt Jean to see them 

The fire was rising higher and higher, and the walls were beginning to 
fall in. The skies in a circle above them were flushed a brilliant red. Jean 
leaned back heavily against a pile of bricks. It seemed to her for a moment 
that she was not really living. She saw the heavy wagons go toiling by, 
with load upon load of machinery. She heard the shouts of the firemen, 
and the hiss of the slender streams of water which fell upon the flames. 
It must be that Louis had done it all, or else he would have come home. 
Why couldn't she stop loving him now ? Her sight grew quite dim for 
the merciful tears, and all the world about her was like one sheet of 

"Why, Jean!" Someone had come down the bridgeway to the little 
figure beside the bricks, and some one had put a strong hand upon Jean's 
shoulder to turn her from the light. He pulled up one rough shirt sleeve to 
show a blistered wrist. "Couldn't help it," he began with a half laugh, 
which stopped as he saw her face. Her eyes did not seem to know him. 
"Where have you been?" she whispered, while her hand tightened upon his 
arm. "At the fire," he answered wonderingly. "I told you last night 
there'd be some such work as this, and I didn't dare come home. I kept 
watch all the afternoon, and to-night at one o'clock I chased one crowd 
away. Thejr found me on the lookout here, and did'nt dare go on because 
they knew I'd peach. I followed them along down the road a piece, and by 
the time I got back here again the mischief was under way. I have been 
working with the machinery ; but the most of it is out now, and I guess I can 
be spared. Why, Jean !" He ended just as he had begun, for the girl had 


dropped down among the brick-heaps, and her shoulders were shaking with 
sobs. He lifted her bodily into his arms and carried her into the dark. 
"You're worried, Dear heart," he whispered. "But we shall be sure to get 
along ; it isn't as though there were more of us. It is only you and I." 
And the eyes that looked up at him had nothing in them but faith. 

Lillian Quinby. 


The spirit of an artist is known by the life which his work creates in 
the mind of humanity. Raphael paints the ideal motherhood, Michael 
Angelo sculptures the ideal poise and efficiency of the Lords of Life, Rey- 
nolds pictures the ideal of human childhood. Let the great conceptions 
be placed where they may meet the eyes of the generations of men who are 
coming to and from the conflicts that determine the issues of human life, 
the lordliness of Michael Angelo's David, the triumphing love of Raphael's 
Sistine Mary, the confiding simplicity of Reynolds's Strawberry Girl, by the 
subtle influence of true Art, will be born into the heart of humanity. 

The organic relation through which the various and apparently far- 
separated members are united in the human race, is in no function more 
clearly manifested than in the mutual serving between the artist who 
wrought in some past age, and the interpreter who makes the message of 
the artist of past history intelligible to the present generation. It is the 
love for the same ideals which brings into close sympathy and mutual 
helpfulness two members of the human family remote from each other 
by lapse of centuries, differing by that wide variance of custom and lan- 
guage which separates the nations as the inexorable oceans separate the 
lands on which they dwell. 

An eminent interpreter of phases of life found among the intricate and 
complex society inhabiting our ancient palace of human nature, presents a 
life which may be found by anyone who is willing, for the sake of his ideal, 
to climb to the highest possibility of efficiency in his nature. It is a life 
dwelling in the Ann tower of human faith, far above the city of the actual 
human race. The artist whose gratifying presence is, with less effort, 


attained by the warm impulses of human nature, interpreting the stand- 
point from which this lover of the ideal life views the confusion and fret of 
worldly ambition, exclaims, " You breathe sweet air above all the evil scents 
of Rome ; and even so, in your maiden elevation, you dwell above our vani- 
ties and passions, our moral dust and mud, with the doves and angels for 
your nearest neighbors." From this unusual position, a habitation of the 
pure spirit, overlooking the historic city of great Art, Hilda had found her 
womanly way to serve the ideal already discovered and pictured forth by 
the old masters. Before she had come to Rome, she had produced some 
original sketches of such artistic merit as to win high appreciation from 
men of taste in her native land. Her earlier dreams had been of winning 
a place among artists by developing her power to embody her own original 
conceptions in forms and colors that should delight all beholders. But 
since the works of the mighty old masters had dawned into her reverent 
mind, she had been so filled with conceiving the beauty and glory revealed 
to her through their painting, that the strong enthusiasm for repeating the 
word of their life had crowded out that earlier ambition. Out of her 
loving appreciation for Raphael had been born a skill for interpreting his 
meanings, such as is never attained by those who try to reproduce his pictures 
by exact copying of their surface. 

This spirit of loyalty to the great revelations of ideal life in Art, seems 
to constitute the peculiar charm of the beautiful new book* that comes to us 
as a refreshing word from one whose inspiring voice we have missed of late 
years from our college corps. We had news of her recovering health : we 
felt comfort in her accepting an appointment to serve on our board of trustees, 
through the vote of our host of aluninse ; but we were still perplexed that 
her desire to return to the responsibilities of a college teacher does not revive 
with her increasing strength. Now the truth becomes clearly apparent, the 
fact which has been imperceptibly dawning, as her frequent contributions to 
the current literature have come to us, published in a variety of magazines 
and papers. She has found her work in a broader field. She went to Rome 
to study for her master's degree ; the Art of the great masters has kindled in 
her heart also an enthusiasm, which seeks to give to the multitudes, the ideals 
of great Art. Her experience verifies Hawthorne's Hilda as an actual type, 

* Child Life in Art. Estelle M. Hurll. Publishers, Joseph Knight Company, Boston. 


a real form of human efficiency, which may be developed by the fire of 

The sculptor Kenyon, who takes the role of the Philosopher in HaAv- 
thorne's drama, seeking to place before himself, as a clearly distinguished 
reality, the power which he felt in Hilda's life, sculptured a portrait of her 
beautiful hand. The ideal reviewer of our Estelle Hurll's* first book would, 
with the true sculptor's tenderness and fidelity, show to any who may read 
her book seeking merely to gratify an aesthetic taste, through the many lovely 
pictures and the attractive style which decorates the volume, the deeper pur- 
pose which holds and guides the author's discriminating pen. As Kenyon 
showed to the attractive but unsatisfying Miriam the trained hand, which can 
interpret for man that wisdom of the heart which will reach and touch all 
humanity, let our philosophy suggest to us how Miss Hurll's practical train- 
ing, in adapting lectures on ethics and psychology to the apprehension of the 
multitudes of Wellesley Freshmen, wrought in her that insight and sympathy 
which will not be satisfied till she has searched out the forms of expression 
through which the truth which her pen would offer may be felt by the multi- 
tudes whom the press reaches through its current publications. Our eager 
interpreter was quick to discover that the world of authors and publishers, 
editors and public, is governed by organic laws, which must be obeyed by 
every writer who will win a permanent influence through the current litera- 
ture of his time. In searching the mind of the people who read, in order 
that her address may be fitted to their forms of thinking, she finds them as- 
sociated in certain groups, indicated by the subscription lists of the various 
magazines and newspapers. So she is led to study the function of these dif- 
fering publications. She examines in turn editors, subscribers, contributors. 
As she considers the succession and variety of the articles issued by a par- 
ticular magazine in past months, gradually the principles determining the 
editorial selection are comprehended. Then the question, "What are the 
tastes and motives in common that have grouped these people as readers of 
this paper?" begins to be answered. Such studies, when sustained by a brave 
and sympathetic spirit, must develop an author who can find how to come 
into touch with his own audience, — with those to whom his message really is 

* Child Life in Art. Estelle M. Hurll. Publishers, Joseph Knight Company, Boston. 


' ' Child Life in Art" offers such clear and simple chapters about artists 
who have interpreted child life, we are reminded of a criticism that was cur- 
rent among Miss Hurll's pupils at Wellesley : that she presented Philosophy 
in such easy explanations and such plain illustrations, that she really neglected 
to show her learning. The same characteristic appears in her literary style ; 
she does not find any relevancy in introducing her learning when that is not 
the theme of her discourse. Intent upon the vision of life which has been 
revealed to her through a picture, her mind cannot rest until she has formed 
a clear conception of the artistic spirit who is the created creator of the 
lovely Art embodiment. In this book the aim is to show us the ideals of the 
artists who have served in forming her own conception of ideal childhood. 
Her reader is led through pages delightfully illustrated by reproductions 
from the pictures which best characterize each artist in his power to paint 
some phase of child life. When we have read the book through, and turn to 
look it over critically, in order to select the points that we would have put 
otherwise, we see that the chapters develop and follow each other as by nat- 
ural evolution. The ideal type proposed in the idealized portraits by Rey- 
nolds, appears persisting in some phase in spite of adverse or obscuring cir- 
cumstances. The child angels, with beautiful appropriateness, herald the 
chapter that presents the artists of the Christ child. Nothing could more ap- 
propriately close this presentation of the great theme than the ideal closing of 
the childhood of the Christ in the Dispute in the Temple, painted by Hein- 
rich Hofmann in our own time. 

Anne Eugenia Morgan. 



On our return this year we have found two causes for rejoicing. Busy 
hands have been at work during the summer, and the result of that work is 
seen in the science building, which will soon be ready for use ; and also in 
the new cottage, which will accommodate thirty girls. The new house is 
known as The Fiske, and was built through the generosity of Mrs. Joseph 
Fiske, of Boston. It means much more to the College than simply pro- 
viding room on the grounds for thirty new students. The house is conducted 
on the same plan as The Eliot, and thus gives advantages to girls who 
are willing to do what is possible to help themselves in getting an 

As college students we look not only with interest, but with delight, 
upon each attempt which is made to place better opportunities for work 
within our reach. The science building which is being erected is a great 
addition to the college equipment. Everyone who has known anything of 
the disadvantages under which some of our science departments have worked, 
will realize that, when the new building has been completed, a long-felt need 
will be supplied. Those who have worked in the small and gloomy labora- 
tories which have hitherto been the home of the Chemistry department, will 
perhaps feel the keenest appreciation of the new building. 

Never has so much attention been paid as now to general culture, to 
symmetrical education. The youth of to-day, instead of being set to write 
hexameters in Latin and in Greek, are made familiar with the best literature 
of their own language, and are taught so to study out the various allusions, 
historical and classical, that the one study of literature opens up widely 
different paths of knowledge. An interesting study of this system, and one 
which would prove its real success, might be made from the examinations for 
entrance to our various colleges. Odd bits of information which are new to 
us might at the same time be gathered. The following instructive answers, 
which brought the matter to our notice, were actually given during the 
entrance examinations in one of our large universities. 


In answer to a question requiring a quotation of ten lines from the 
"Ancient Mariner," one student started off boldly with, 

" I am a cook, and a captain bold, 
And the mate of the Nancy brig," 

and gave the first twelve lines of this stirring ballad. Another quoted a 
familiar passage as follows : — 

" He prayeth well who loveth well 
All things both great and small : 
He loveth best, who prayeth daily 
For the god who made us all." 

A second question asked explanation of the italicized words in a brief 
quotation from Tennyson's "Princess." 

" Like those three stars of the airy Giant's zone, 
That glitter burnish' d by the frosty dark; 
And as the fiery Sirius alters hue, 
And bickers into red and emerald, shone 
Their morions, washed with morning, as they came. 
And highest among the statues, statue-like, 
Between a cymbal' d Miriam and a Jael, 
With Psyche's babe, was Ida watching us." 

The "airy Giant's zone" was explained as O'Brien's belt ; " Sirius," as the 
sun (this answer was very general) . ' ' Morions " were rays ; ' ' cymbal'd " was 
shown to be "a contraction for cymbalized, meaning made to resemble" : and 
' ' Ida " was Mount Ida , with ' ' Psyche's babe," a smaller mountain near by. It 
was in regard to "Miriam" and "Jael" that the greatest difference of opinion 
prevailed. They were variously described as columns, statues, soldiers. 
Miriam, according to one, was a hugh (huge) woman, who usually stood on 
one side of Ida, while Jael was another sort of woman who stood on the 
other side. In another paper Miriam and Jael were fabulous monsters 
of antiquity, between whose statues on the wall Ida stood. 

It is to be hoped that some one will yet have courage to make a scientific 
investigation of this whole subject, and to give us a truly instructive treatise 
on "Literature as She Is Taught." 


In our wanderings during these summer months, we have met many 
college youths and maidens, and we have noticed the strong stamp with 
which certain institutions impress their members. From one part of the 
country come the world-weary savants, with languid movements and satiric 
sneers. Proverbial luck beams from the faces of another class ; it is seen in 
the curve of their eyebrows, in the twist of their cravats. Again, we meet 
the workers, earnest and steady, but perhaps unpolished and lacking in 
worldly lore. 

It would seem that, with increasing years, a college approaches nearer 
and nearer to the organic state ; the whole is but an assemblage of parts, 
all working for a common end, each part bearing likeness to the whole. If 
this be so, it may be want of development, or perhaps the prejudiced eye of 
one of the "parts," which prevents the discovery of Wellesley's special 
characteristic. Some day, however, it will be distinct and strong, and in 
the forming of it we shall each have our share. 

Although the intricacies of social and political questions have made the 
newspaper vie in popularity with the summer novel, we must have noticed 
that, during the past three months, an unusually lai"ge number of good 
stories has been offered to the rapacious reading public. In fiction, we are 
told that there has been a constantly increasing demand for romance. Such 
books as the " Ebb-tide," the "Prisoner of Zenda," the stirring tales of Stanley 
J. Weyman, and the "Jungle Book," have found most enthusiastic admirers ; 
but the story which has come nearest to our hearts is that bewitching "Trilby." 
The simple, light-hearted little narrative, with its wonderful tenderness and 
pathos, has been a favorite with reviewers, since one cannot lay it aside with- 
out making a complete surrender to the naive, girlish heroine and her loyal 
artist comrades. The whole atmosphere of the book is so healthy and 
optimistic that we must be better for this glimpse of art and friendship in the 
Latin quarter. 

The Magazine, as it enters upon the third year of its history, extends a 
greeting to all, and hopes it may find the friends and warm support it has 
had in the past. 



At this, the beginning of a new college year, the members of the 
Wellesley College Christian Association would give to all a word of cordial 
greeting. Feeling that membership in this Association is helpful to those 
who join, and realizing that a large portion of the students did not identify 
themselves with this work last year, we wish to make an urgent request that 
each member of the College will consider the question of uniting with us. 
Those who have engaged in church work at home will no doubt wish to 
keep up their interest and give their help in the philanthropic, missionary, 
and temperance work which come under the direction of the Christian Asso- 
ciation. Unlike many of the college organizations, the Christian Association 
makes but few demands upon the time of the students ; and yet, by dividing 
the work among many, a great deal may be accomplished. We need your 
help and co-operation, and feel sure the membership will be a blessing 
to you. 

Cornelia Huntington, President. 

Alethea Ledyard, Chairman Reception Committee. 

It has been supposed that parliamentary law was intended to save time 
in all asseniblies in which it was properly used, by requiring that the work 
to be done should be performed according to given forms ; some logical brain 
having arranged these so as not to interfere with one another, and yet bring 
the greatest dispatch to the greatest number in the least time. Still, it is 
surprising that there should be carefully added to the By-laws of class and 
society constitutions that ' ' Robert's Rules of Order shall decide all parlia- 
mentary questions." Is it to satisfy the requirements of Academic Council, 
and so obtain a constitution at any cost? Judging from the contradictory 
rulings in class and society, it might well be surmised that either this By-law is 
a dead letter, or that there are several editions of Robert's Rules in use. There 
is a college tradition which goeth after this wise : Once upon a time a Fresh- 
man class gathered together for organization, and the motion made that the 
member who had called the meeting should be made chairman. The chair 
put the motion: "All those who want me for chairman, say aye." "All 
those who don't want me for chairman, say no." A few noes resulted. " It 


is so nearly unanimous that we will call it unanimous ! " It has even been 
whispered that two college organizations of to-day vote at their annual elec- 
tions to suspend their constitution ! 

If the question of this year is to be where to cut down class or academic 
work so as to prevent the nervous rush of the past, it would be well to con- 
sider the time that could be saved in any meeting when each member knows 
at least the fundamental principles governing its operations. Not only can 
the assembly as a whole avoid humiliating mistakes, but the intricate results 
of the original blunder, which take so Ions - to unravel and straighten out, will 
be done away with. Furthermore, each member of the assembly will no 
longer hesitate, from her uncertain knowledge, to make her motion and to 
offer her resolution, and thus the tiresome waiting for some bold spirit to 
hazard all and say something, will be a thing of the past. It may be sug- 
gested that Robert's Rules of Order is not an educational primer in parliamen- 
tary law, but, on the contrary, presupposes knowledge of a definite sort on 
the part of the student. And here comes the question of how best to secure 
this knowledge. Can arrangements be made for a short series of lectures 
which the student could attend, or shall each one, with her college student's 
ability, puzzle out the matter for herself? 

E. H. Y., '96. 

The belief that our College Freshmen should be firmly established in 
wise paths, is manifested by the lavish advice administered in Tree Day 
speeches and " Legendas." It seems, however, a great pity that printed 
suggestions should be reserved till such late date, when Freshman habits are 
pretty well formed, and the border land of Sophomore self-satisfaction lies 
perilously near. It is to the Freshmen, therefore, at the beginning of their 
course, that an alumna would offer a maxim as difficult to practice as it is 
easy to state — " Don't worry." Realize perfectly the nature of whatever 
you have to do, allow ample time and brain force for its accomplishment, 
follow out' your plan to the best of your ability, but, as you value success, 
crush out of existence the least inclination to be anxious over results. It 
yet remains to be shown that in any instance worry made a duty easier, a 
burden lighter, or attainment more assured; in numberless cases, however, 
it has turned life into a wilderness, and subtracted cruelly from the health 
and buoyancy which were birthrights too precious to be thus lightly bar- 


gained away. If, from over-conscientiousness or confirmed melancholia, 
you take a certain sad satisfaction in worrying, leave college as soon as 
possible, unless bent on giving the fiend a death-grapple at earliest oppor- 
tunity. One year the writer had occasion to compare two Wellesley girls 
whose examples were more forceful than any verbal commentary on this 
subject. One had a task assigned hard to perform, but no more difficult 
than her ability justified. She permitted the demon of worry to be her 
guest. Always thinking, frequently talking, about the obstacles in her way, 
when she should have made a brave beginning of the work, her health 
became seriously impaired, the lives of her friends were made miserable 
by the constant demand for a sympathy which they felt to be worse than 
useless, and the task itself was unsatisfactorily performed. While this 
unnecessary tragedy was in progress, another girl was going through an 
experience of such perplexity as afforded a clear field for worry of an 
aggravated description. At first she seemed to yield, but, rousing herself 
with a great effort, she rose superior to circumstances, and finished the term 
in a way that would have done credit to a much older person. If Freshmen 
would only bear in mind that work and worry are diametrically opposed, and 
would face the former and scorn the latter, it is no exaggeration to proph- 
esy that they would accomplish their college course with a minimum of 
strain and a maximum of success. 


The warm days of last June and the sight of the fagged-out Senior 
haunting reference tables, or settling herself for her final cram with all her 
old-time vigilance and with all the hurry and rush of her lower-class sisters, 
brings to one's mind the question, " Why is there not a Senior vacation?" 
Is the grinding of the last grind so very important, and are there not other 
things more important to her and to the college? What is gained by it? 
If the Senior is to be counted worthy of graduation, has she not demon- 
strated this fitness before the end of the fourth year? And if she has not 
done work worthy of her degree during the quiet of the four } r ears, is there 
any probability of her doing it in the excitement of the last two weeks? 
The experience of many a one, I am sure, would confirm the statement that 
this last work does not represent her best, and that it is a grief to her to 
leave as the crowning achievement of her college course the hasty paper or 


examination, crowded in between visits to teachers' agencies, all the press 
of final class and committee work, and the entertainment of the many June 
visitors. It may be that there is doubt felt whether good semester work 
would he done by the class which had no fear of examination hanging over 
it; but surely something must be radically wrong with the body of Seniors 
who have not in all their Wellesley experience learned to care enough for 
study for its own sake to save them from the need of an examination spur. 
However, the success of certain courses in which the spring examination 
is omitted suffices to prove that this fear is groundless. 

Are there not other things of more value in these last two weeks? 
The Senior is just leaving the place where, very likely, she has spent the 
happiest four years of her life ; she is leaving the friends who have become 
the closest and dearest of any. There are so many things she longs to do 
before she leaves, — things left undone because college work was always given 
the first place, — must they be left undone forever? There are so many 
friends she has hastened by in the busy weeks of the year ; must they be 
passed by to the end when diverging paths shall carry them far away? 
The brief space of time which may remain after work is done, does not 
give opportunity for these things, for then the many visitors from abroad 
have arrived, and formality has taken the place of the old companionship. 
If the Senior could conscientiously and care free take enjoyment in teachers 
and classmates and in the beauties of Alma Mater for the last two weeks 
of the year, would she not leave with a tenderer love for the college for 
which in days past she had cheerfully worked? And would not the brighter 
and fresher countenance which would come of her outdoor rambles and 
adequate rest do a greater service to Alma Mater than her last cram, as the 
Commencement friends gather, and as she goes out to stand in society as 
the Wellesley graduate? 

B., '94. 

The word "mob" calls up visions of anarchists and lynchers. No one 
would associate young ladies with such a disagreeable and illegal assembly ; 
and yet, in the opening days of Wellesley, we are forcibly reminded that 
the power for forming a rabble is not confined to men alone. Not a few 
college girls have [evolved the theory, that elbows are a means of warfare 
and locomotion also, when forcibly applied to the anatomies of their nearest 


It is said that the age of the supremacy of brute force is past, but it 
might be hard to convince a girl who is five feet two of this fact, after a 
girl who is five feet seven, with other measurements in proportion, has 
energetically prodded her with sharp elbows, and then ruthlessly jammed 
her against the wall, breathless and wrathful. 

The principle " every girl for herself" is universally adopted, and the 
result can be imagined. No quarter is given or received, and the law of 
the survival of the fittest is beautifully exemplified. 

N. O., '96. 


The regular meeting of Society Zeta Alpha was held on Saturday 
evening, September 29th. Miss Hoyt, '98, Misses Howland, Evans, Gordon, 
Trebein, Purington, Smith, and Craig, '97, were initiated into the Society. 
MissBurrell, Miss Eoberts, Dr. Brewster, Miss Stewart, Miss Meader, Miss 
Hoyt, Miss Conyngton, Miss Grenell, Miss Conant, Miss Bigelow, and Miss 
Luther were present at the meeting. 

The Agora had not held its first meeting before the Magazine went to 

The regular meeting of Society Phi Sigma was held Saturday evening, 
October 6th. The following new members were initiated : Misses Shaw, 
Dalzell, May, Ladd, Brooks, of the Class of '97. Miss White, Miss Eager, 
Miss Hill, Miss Clement, Miss Lance, Miss Geraldine and Miss Bertha 
Longley, Miss Stanwood, Miss Carter, and Miss Bailey were present at the 

The Society Tau Zeta Epsilon held its initiation in Tau Zeta Epsilon 
Hall, Saturday evening, September 29th. The following members were 
received into the Society : Miss Elfie Graff, '97 ; Miss Grace M. Dennison, 
'97; Miss Frances A. Carpenter, '97; Miss M. Bessie Gates, '97; Miss 
Warrene Piper, '97 ; and Miss Edith Meade, '97. 

The regular programme meeting of the Shakespeare Society was held 
in Hathaway Hall, Saturday evening, September 29th. The Society received 
into its membership Miss Gertrude Rushmore, '97 ; Miss Florence M. 
Painter, '97; Miss Mary W. Allen, '97; Miss Elfie A. Work, '97; Miss 


Susan W. Dodge, '97; Miss Louise R. Loomis, '97; Miss Geneva Crumb, 
'97. The programme of the evening was as follows : — 

Shakespeare News ..... Juliet Duxbury. 

Life of Shakespeare ..... Christine Caryl. 

Dramatic Representation : "The Taming of the Shrew," Act IV. 
Scene V. 

Song: "Who is Sylvia?" .... Cornelia Park. 

" Our Year's Work " Gertrude Wilson. 

Dramatic Representation: " A Winter's Tale," Act V. Scene III. 

There was a social meeting of the Classical Society, Monday evening, 
October 1st; Professor Lord, Edith Dexter, '95, Elizabeth Haines, '96, and 
Julia Randall, '97, were initiated. 


Sunday, October 21st. — Rev. J. V. Garton, Cambridge, Mass. 
Monday, October 22d. — Concert. 

Sunday, October 28th. — Rev. C. H. Richards, D.D., Philadelphia. 
Sunday, November 4th. — Rev. Wm. P. Merrill, Germantown. 
Sunday, November 11th. — Prof. O. A. Curtis, Boston University. 
Sunday, November 18th. — Rev. B. F. Hamilton, D.D., Roxbury. 
Monday, November 19th. — Concert. 


College opened on Thursday, September 20th, with a Freshman Class 
numbering 250. As in the last three years, the opening week has been one 
of delightful fall weather. 

Two new buildings have been added to the College. One is a new 
dormitory, Fiske Cottage, and the other is the new Science Building. 

The boathouse is resplendent in a coat of fresh paint. There is the '94 
green, surely, but, where shall we look for the silver? 

Changes^ within keep pace with changes without. The old Chemistry 
Lecture Room and its adjacent laboratory have become Lecture Rooms 1 
and 2. The laboratories for advanced Chemistry at the west end of the 


fourth floor have become in one case a pleasant, newly furnished recitation 
room, called R ; in the other, a suite of rooms for two students. To the 
dismay of all who were congratulating themselves on having at last surely 
placed Room Q, this has become Room N, while Room M has entirely dis- 
appeared. A wild search for the right room is now almost invariably the 
excuse for tardiness. 

On Saturday evening, September 22d, the Christian Association gave 
its annual reception to the College in special honor of the new students. 
Professor Irvine, the acting President of the College, Miss Stiatton, and 
Miss Cornelia Huntington, the new president of the Christian Association, 
received the guests in the Browning Room. Lemonade was served through- 
out the evening, and the Glee and Banjo Clubs added to the pleasure of the 
students, especially the new girls. This reception is a pleasant way of 
making the strangers acquainted with the members of the college. 

Sunday, September 23d, was the Flower Sunday of 1894, and, to the 
delight of all, was a beautiful, sunny day. The chapel platform was a mass 
of palms, potted plants, and flowers, and the room was crowded with girls 
in light summer gowns, eager to hear Mr. Moody, who had not visited the 
College for some years before. The sermon was on the text always set 
apart for Flower Sunday, "God is love." Mr. Moody held two other ser- 
vices during the day, one in the afternoon, the other in the evening, and in 
both cases spoke to a full chapel. 

On Tuesday evening, September 25th, the Sophomore Class serenaded 
the Freshman with college and class songs ; the music was enjoyed by the 
other classes as well. 

As Professor Whiting has left College Hall to take charge of Fiske 
Cottage, Miss Lord now presides at the guest table. 

Two changes in college rules have been announced. Silent time is no 
more, but all students are expected to be in their rooms at quarter of ten. 
Excuses are no longer required for absence from chapel or college appoint- 

On Thursday evening, October 4th, the annual memorial service for Mr. 
Durant was held in the chapel. Mrs. Irvine, Acting President, presided at the 
meeting, which was opened by a hymn, reading of Scripture, and prayer by 


Miss Stratton. Then followed short addresses b}' Miss Clarke, Miss Whiting, 
and Miss Lord, giving- many reminiscenses of their personal acquaintance with 
Mr. Durant. Between the addresses the Beethoven Society and Glee Club 
sang Smart's "The Lord is my Shepherd," and Rubenstein's "Wanderer's 
Night Song." The Rev. Mr. Mayo, of Boston, pronounced the benediction. 

During the summer vacation three parties of children and young women, 
chosen by the residents of Denison House, were entertained at the College. 
The Art Building, boating on Waban, and luncheon under the trees proved 
sources of enjoyment for all, and it was a cause for regret that lack of money 
prevented more frequent repetition of the pleasure. Thanks are due Mr. 
Diehl and Mr. Bailey for giving transportation free of charge. 

The Educational Review for September contains articles by members of 
last year's class in experimental psychology. 

On Saturday evening, October 6th, the Sophomore Class entertained 
the Freshman Class in the centers of the first and second floors of College 
Hall. The decorations in yellow and olive, the class colors, the trimmings 
of white pine, the dainty daffodil souvenirs, and the very effective representa- 
tion of the class crest at the end of the south corridor, were all admired and 
appreciated by the guests. Mrs. Irvine, Miss Evans, president of '97, Miss 
Graff, vice president in the place of Miss Wilt, and Miss Hoyt, chairman of 
'98, received the members of the Faculty and the members of '98 in the re- 
ception room. Misses Work, Trowbridge, Loomis, Allen, and Ordway 
acted as ushers. At intervals during the evening the Glee Club sang, "All 
Hail to the College Beautiful," " Boo-hoo," and " O, Thou Tupelo." The 
" Wellesley Art Gallery," at the foot of the staircase on the first floor, was 
a great source of amusement, from " Loneliness, — a Marine," — portrayed by 
a line of Freshman handkerchiefs hung up to dry, — to the Senior cap and 
gown, — " Won by Labor." On the second floor dainty refreshments were 
served. The reception was voted a great success by all who were privileged 
to enjoy it. 

Meanwhile, on the third floor, the Specials were enjoying their social, 
which always occurs on the same evening with the Sophomore reception. 
W 7 ith music by the Glee Club, solos by Miss Cottle, delicious refreshments 
and pleasant conversation, the evening was a most enjoyable one. 



Alice W. Kellogg, '94, is teaching English and Latin in the Girls' Clas- 
sical School, 2034 Fifth Avenue, New" York City. 

During the month of September the following alumnae visited the Col- 
lege : Miss Fannie Brown, '88, Miss Helen Storer and Miss Emma Teller, 
'89, Miss Belle Sherwin, '90, Miss Dora Emerson, Miss May Patterson, Miss 
Emily Stewart, Miss Grace Underwood, '92, Miss Delarue Howe, Miss Mil- 
dred Feeny, '93, Miss Clara Stanwood, '94. 

At the annual meeting of the Electoral Board of the C. S. A., held in 
New York, May 19, 1894, Mrs. Adeline Emerson Thompson, '80, was re- 
elected president, and Miss Caroline L. Williamson, '89, made secretary. 

The meeting of the Alumnae Chapter of the College Settlements Asso- 
ciation was held in Room D on Commencement evening. A constitution 
was adopted, and a report of the work done toward increase of Settlement 
interest among Wellesley alumnae reported. Miss Caroline L. Williamson, 
'89, as elector, and Miss Grace Andrews, '89, as secretary and treasurer, 
were continued in office. 

Miss Caroline M. Dresser, '90, is on the committee on residents for the 
New York College Settlement for the coming winter. 

Mrs. Prince, '91-'93, is a member of the committee on residents for 
the Boston College Settlement. Her address is West Newton, Mass. 

Mrs. Charlotte Rose Stanley, '88, is living in Elmira, N. Y. 

Miss Bertha Bailey, '88, is teaching in Mademoiselle Ruel's school in 
New York City, and boarding in New Rochelle. 

Among the Wellesley alumnae at Chautauqua during the past summer, 
were Mrs. Louise Palmer Vincent, '86, Mrs. Angie Hatton Hume, '88, Flora 
Smeallie, '86, Ada Wing, '86, Evelyn Barrows," '85, Maud Wilkinson, '89, 
Daisy Jackson, Mary Wheeler, '88, Mary Petrie, Mary Blauvelt, '89. Miss 
Mary Blauvelt continues to teach Greek and History in Elmira College, 
Elmira, N. Y. 

Miss Anne Adams, '89, is teaching in the High School, Norwood, Mass. 

Miss Harriet L. Constantine, '89, is teaching Latin in the Newton High 
School. She will live at home, 453 Beacon Street, Boston, Mass. 


Miss Eleanor Gamble, '89, read a letter on the teaching of the classics, 
before the State Teachers' Convention in Saratoga, N. Y., in July. She 
and Miss Kyle, '91, continue their positions in the Plattsburgh State Normal 

Miss Ethel Paton, '89, instructor in the Department of History of Art, 
spent the summer abroad, in company with Miss Denio. 

Miss S. Louise Magone, '89, returns to her position as instructor in 
Latin and History in the High School at Ironwood, Mich. 

Miss Maud Wilkinson, '89, is again teaching in Kalamazoo College. 

Miss Emily Meader and Miss Elizabeth Hoyt, '91, spent Sunday, Sep- 
tember 30th, at the College. They, with Miss Helena Gregory, '91, have 
resumed their positions in the Providence, R. I., High School. 

Miss Louise Hannum and Miss Harriet Tuell, both of '91, received the 
degree of Ph.D. at Cornell, in June, '94. 

Miss May D. Newcomb, '91, and Miss Caroline L. Williamson, '89, 
visited their classmates Miss Theo Kyle, '91, and Miss Eleanor Gamble, '89, 
in Plattsburgh, N. Y., immediately after Commencement in June. 

Miss May Douglas Newcomb, '91, is teaching Literature and History 
at Waterman Hall, Sycamore, 111. 

Miss Maud M. Taylor, '91, who has been spending the summer in the 
East, is to teach this winter in Portland, Ore. Her address will be 634 
Flanders Street, Portland. 

Miss Ada Woolfolk, '91, has returned to the New York College Settle- 
ment as assistant head worker. 

The engagement of Miss Sallie Reid, '91, is announced. 

Mrs. Lucy White Thwing, '91, is in Madison, Wis., where her husband 
has a position in the State University. 

Miss May West, '91, is preceptress in Canajoharie High School, N. Y. 
Miss Meader, '91, spent the month of August with Miss West. 

Miss Louise Pope, '91, is teaching in the Springfield, Ohio, Seminary. 

The engagement of Miss Carrie Hardwick, '93, to Rev. E. V. Bigelow, 
of Cohasset, is announced. 


Miss Florence Hoopes, '93, has visited Miss Harriet Blake, '94, in her 
summer home in the mountains of Pennsylvania. Miss Hoopes has also 
been visiting Miss Elinor Ruddle, '93, during the month of September. 

Miss Adelaide Miller, '94, spent the summer at Magnolia Beach. 

Miss Caroline Newman, '93, is teaching in Pilot Grove Seminary, Pilot 
Grove, Mo. 

Miss Florence Wilkinson, '92, read a paper before the University Union 
of Chicago University, on May 11, 1894, that won the $50 prize. The title 
of the paper was " The Building of a Tragedy." Miss Wilkinson is now 
president of the University Union. During the summer she taught a class 
in Spenser's "Faerie Queen" at the Rockford Summer School. Since then 
she has been taking up Old English at the U. of C. During this year she 
is writing and keeping house. Her address is 361 Fifty-Eighth Street, 

Miss Roberta Allen, formerly of '93, is visiting in Brookeville, Md. 

Miss Gertrude Bigelow, '93, is again teaching in the Walnut Hill 
School, Natick, Mass., and also stud}dng at the Boston Normal School of 
Cooke ry. 

Miss Louise Brown, '93, is teaching Mathematics and Science in the 
High School, Albany, N. Y. 

Miss Annie M. Reynolds, '76-78, has been appointed World's Secretary 
of the Y. W. C. A. Her headquarters are to be in London, but the position 
will involve extensive travel on the Continent. Her first work was in con- 
nection with the August conference in Neuchatel, Switzerland. 

Miss Dora Freeman, '80, was head worker at Denison House, Boston 
College Settlement, during July and August. 

The address of Margaret Payson Waterman, '81, is 12 E:ist 11th 
Street, New York. 

The address of Sophia Lewis Brewster, '80, is 39 Washington Square, 
West, New York City. 

An article on the new Boston Public Library in the September number 
of the Art Interchange, is written by Estelle M. Hurll, '82. 


Dr. Mary Jones Brewster, '83, has the appointment as house surgeon 
at the New England Hospital for Women and Children, Dimock Street, 

Miss Abbe Carter Goodloe, '89, will spend the winter in New York in 
literary work. 

Miss Mary O. Hoyt, M.D., '89, is established in practice at Keokuk, 

Miss Harriet Stone, '88, and Miss Isabelle Stone, '89, continued their 
studies during the summer term at the University of Chicago. 

Miss Leo Lebus, '89, is studying medicine at Johns Hopkins, Baltimore. 

Miss Edith Sturges, '89, and M. D., University of Michigan, '94, has 
accepted a position in the Dispensary at Johns Hopkins. 

Miss Mary Sturges, formerly of '93, spent last year at the University of 

Miss Carol Dresser, '90, will be a resident in the New York Settlement 
during another winter. 

Miss Ethel Glover, '90, spent the summer term at the University of 
Chicago, engaged in the study of History. She will continue at the 
University until Christmas. 

The address of Mrs. Jane Corey Lindsay, '90, for the coming winter 
will be 226 Huntington Avenue, Boston. 

The address of Mrs. Helen Harris Dutcher, M.D., Special at Wellesley, 
'87-90, is 94 Fullerton Avenue, South Montclair, New Jersey. 

Miss Emily Brown, '90, is Professor of Science at Downes College, Fox 
Lake, Wisconsin. 

Miss Anne Bosworth, '90, was studying Mathematics and Astronomy at 
the University of Chicago during the summer term. 

Miss Evangeline Hathaway, '90, has been traveling in Europe during 
the summer, and will study at Oxford during this year. 

Miss Belle Sherwin, '90, and Miss Martha McCaulley, '92, have gone 
abroad for two years' study and travel. 


Miss Grace Grenell, '93, spent Sunday, September 30th, at College. 
Miss Grenell has returned to her school, Milton, N. H. 

Miss Bessie Kellogg, '93, spent the summer at Buzzard's Bay, and 
visited the College in September. 

Miss Adelaide Smith, '93, is studying at the University of Chicago. 

The engagement of Miss Edith White, '93, to Mr. Richard Norton, of 
Cambridge, is announced. 

Miss Annie B. Tomlinson, '93, is teaching in the Shelton High School, 
Shelton, Conn. 

Miss Gertrude Angell, '94, is spending a few weeks with her classmate, 
Miss Helen Foss, in the Catskills. 

Miss Sarah H. Bixby, '94, is engaged to Arthur Sherman Smith. 

Miss Harriet Blake, '94, is visiting her classmate, Miss Helen Stahr. 

Miss Lucy Brownell, '94, will be at home this winter, Newport, R. I. 

Miss Julia Burgess, '94, is at home, Silver Creek, N. Y. 

Miss Mary Conyngton, '94, was at the Boston College Settlement in 

Mrs. Ellen Gow, first Professor of Moral Science at Wellesley, after 
some months in Chicago, is now living at Northampton. 

Professor Wenckebach, Frl. M. Miiller, Frl. Habermeyer and Frl. 
Beinhorn, spent the summer months at home in Germany. 

Miss Vida D. Scudder spent several months in Florence, working in 
Italian. From a recent letter she was in the high Alps, near Interlaken. 
She expects to return to America sometime in December. 

" Dr. Helen Baldwin, Wellesley, '88, has just taken high honors in her 
examination at the Medical School at the University of Pennsylvania. Dr. 
Baldwin's home is in Canterbury, Conn. For a year after her graduation 
at Wellesley she remained at the college as instructor in Physics. The next 
year she studied in the Medical School at Michigan University, and during 
another year she was in the New York Infirmary. Since that time she has 
been in Philadelphia." — Boston Herald. 


Miss Sophonisba Breckenridge, '88, is teaching Latin and Mathe- 
matics in the Girl's Seminary, Staunton, Va. 

Miss F. T. Brown, '88, is teaching Latin, Greek, and Psychology in 
Charleston, S. C. 

Miss Marion Gurney, '88, is doing mission work in New York City. 

Miss Lena McMaster, '88, is again teaching at her home, Green- 
wich, N.Y. 

Miss May E. Cook, '88, has classes in Literature at the Oak Park 
High School two days per week. 

Miss Jessie Claire McDonald, '88, sailed for Europe in July to be 
gone a year. 

Miss Lillian Miner, '88, is teaching in Shepardson College, Granville, 

Miss Edith Wilkinson, '88, has returned to her position in the Hyde 
Park High School, Chicago, 111. 

Miss Amelia Hall, '84, is again teaching at Walnut Hill School, and 
doing work toward her Master's degree at Wellesley. 

Mrs. Kari Gamble McCoull, '86, spent the summer with Mrs. 
Maryette Goodwin Mackey, '87, in Sandusky, Ohio. 

The engagement of Miss Alice Dixon, '87, is announced. 

Miss Mary Lowe Stevens, '89, has returned from California, and will 
be at home in Boston this winter. 

Miss Mary Stinson, '89, has been made President of the Wellesley 
Philadelphia Club. 

Miss Alice Libby, '89, sailed for Europe, August 15th, to be gone a 
year. She will spend the winter in Paris. 

The address of Mrs. Mary Edwards Twitchell, '89, is 20 Clifton Place, 
Brooklyn, N. Y. 

Miss Helen Holmes, '89, is studying kindergarten in Boston this winter. 

The friends of Mrs. Mary Walker Porter, '89, will be sorry to know 
of the death of her brother-in-law. 


Miss Essie Thayer and Miss Carrie Field, both of '89, are visiting their 
classmate, Mrs. Mary Bean Jones, in Norristown, Penn. 

Miss Jeanette Welsh, '89, Fellow of the Chicago Branch of the Asso- 
ciation of Collegiate Alumnae at Hull House, and student at the University 
of Chicago, has been ill with gastric fever, but will resume her work in 
Biology with the new term. 

Harriet Emily Tuell, '91, is teaching History in the Milton High 
School the present year. 

Miss Harriet Elizabeth Balch, '92, is studying at the Woman's Medical 
College, New York. Her address is 321 15th Street. 

Miss Edith Bancroft, '92, is teaching Greek in the Mt. Hermon School, 
Franklin County, Mass. 

The address of Miss Emily Briggs, '92, is 693 Los Bubles Ave., 
Pasadena, Cal. 

Miss Helen Cook and Miss Gertrude Spaulding, both of '92, visited 
their classmate, Miss Martha McCaulley, during the summer. 

Miss Helen Cook, '92, is teaching again at Walnut Lane School, Phila- 
delphia, a Wellesley preparatory. 

The address of Miss Blanche L. Clay, '92, is Laconia, N. H. 

Miss Mary McLean and Miss Gertrude Smith, with former members 
of '92, have returned to college. 

Miss Agnes Holbrook, '92, is in Colorado, on account of her health. 
Miss Helen Hill, '92, will be at home during the coining winter. 

Miss Ermina Ferris, '92, has returned to the English department in the 
High School at San Bernardino, Cal., for another year. 

Miss Maddocks, '92, is teaching in a school for boys in Hyde Park, 
Chicago, and has also a house for university students. She has recently 
broken her arm, but manages to do the work of two people, as usual. 

Miss Gertrude Spaulding, '92, is teaching English and Literature at 
Mary Institute, St. Louis, Mo. 

Miss Florence Annette Wing, '92, is teaching in Norwood, Mass. 


Miss Addie Bonney, '94, will be at her home during the winter. 

Miss Louise Cook, '94, is teaching in the Girls' High School, 
Brooklyn, N. Y. 

Miss Florence Davis, '94, will remain at home in Dorchester this 

Miss Helen Foss, '94, spent the summer in the Catskills, and is now 
studying German Literature and Music, at Bryn Mawr. 

Miss Mabel Keller, Mus., '94, spent the summer in Pennsylvania. She 
is now working in Music under Professor Hill's direction. 

Miss Millicent Pierce, '94, is teaching in the High School at Tona- 
wanda, N. Y. Her engagement to Mr. J. T. Potter is announced. 

Miss Harriet Blake, '94, will return to her home in Philadelphia, 
November 1st, when she expects to study German, and perhaps Economics. 

Miss Anna Peterson, '94, is at home, McGregor, Iowa. 

Miss Levenia Smith, '94, has accepted a position in the Diocesan School 
at Burlington, Vt. 

Miss Helen Stahr, '94, is to teach at her home in Lancaster this winter. 

Miss Florence Tobey, '94, is at home, Roxbury, Mass. 

Miss Mary H. Holmes, '94, is doing graduate work at College. 

Miss Artie Stone, '94, has accepted a position in the Dayton, 0.> 
High School. 

Miss Lillian B. Quinby, '94, is teaching Science in the Norwood, 
Mass., High School. 

Miss Elizabeth Tuttle, '94, will spend the winter at her home, East 
Corning, N. Y. 

Miss Jane Williams, '94, is teaching English in the Lake Erie Sem- 
inary, Painesville, O. 

Miss Gail Laughlin, '94, at present is doing some writing for the 
American Economist of New York, the organ of the American Protective 
Tariff League. She has also been keeping books during the summer. 


Miss Grace Dewey, '85, Miss Caroline L. Williamson, '89, and Miss 
Charlotte T. Sibley, '91, took their M. A.'s in June, 1894, at Wellesley. 

Miss Clara Grover, 79-'81, Miss Wilhelmina Duurloo, '81, Miss 
Georgia Gates, '82, Miss Netta Sawyer, '83-86, Miss Mary Kneil, '86, 
Miss M. L. Ingalls, '88-'90, '93-'94, and Miss Anna Olsson, '90, are 
teaching in the Brooklyn, N. Y., High School for girls. 

Miss Adeline Teele, '89-92, '93-94, is teaching in the Home School, 
Everett, Mass. 

Miss Edith Foulke, formerly of '95, is teaching in St. Paul, Minn. 

Miss E. C. Temple, formerly of the Eliot, is again teaching music in 
Ashburnham, Mass. 

Miss Marion Canfield, '94, has accepted the position of secretary in the 
Cathedral School of St. Mary, Garden City, L. I. 

Miss Eleanore N. Kellogg, '94, has accepted a position in the Norwich, 
N. Y., High School as a teacher of Science. 

Emily Foley, '93, sailed for Europe, September 22d, on the steamer 
Abdam, Netherland line. 

Miss Catherine Collins, '94, will spend the winter at her home in 
Covington, Ky. 

Miss May Lemer, '94, has a position as teacher in the Harrisburgh 
High School. 

Miss Frances Lucas, '93, has taken a class in Virgil in Wooster 
College, Wooster, O. 

Miss Marion Mitchell, '94, will spend the winter in Boston, studying 

Miss Josephine P. Simrall will spend the winter at home, engaged in 
free kindergarten work. 

Miss Mary P. Russell, '94, is teaching in the Winthrop, Mass., High 

Miss Grace H. Perkins, '94, is teaching in the Arlington, Mass., High 



The Roman Pronunciation of Latin. Frances E. Lord. 

In the past, few points have been more hotly contested by classicists, 
there are, perhaps, few subjects to-day on which a greater divergence of opin- 
ion prevails, than the pronunciation of Latin. Three methods are still in 
use, — the English, the Continental, and the Romanic ; and of those who use 
the last-named method, all do not agree on the sounds which should be given 
to the diphthongs and the consonantal u. All who have to wrestle with the 
pronunciation of Latin by Freshmen in college, must wish for some uniform 
standard. But the question may be asked, "How shall this uniformity be 
secured?" "Who is competent to speak, and so to support his statements, 
that they shall commend themselves to the judgment of those who are seek- 
ing light on this obscure subject?" 

We would refer all such questioners to a little book lately issued by 
Ginn & Co., Boston : " The Romanic Pronunciation of Latin," by Frances E. 
Lord. This book bears the marks of much research and long and patient 
study. Portions of it were prepared many years ago for the use of Profes- 
sor Lord's own department. Every statement is buttressed by an array of 
quotations from Latin writers which seems convincing, yet there is no attempt 
to dictate or dogmatize. This book, so modest and yet so scholarly, ought 
to be in the hands of every teacher and of all advanced students of Latin. 
It should at the very least be hospitably received and carefully examined. 
The attention of those now using the Romanic pronunciation is called to the 
discussion of the sounds of the diphthongs and the consonantal u. 

The first and larger part of the book is given to the sounds of the letters. 
Due attention is also paid to Quantity, Accent, and Pitch. In an examina- 
tion of the book the Introduction should not be passed over, and the last 
chapter, " How to Use It," is a fitting conclusion to the whole. All who love 
the Romanic pronunciation of Latin, who feel its simplicity and its beauty, 
will welcome this little book as affording a reasonable ground for their pref- 
erence, and those who yet adhere to the earlier methods are urged to give it 
a careful and unprejudiced perusal. 



Extraits Choisis des Oeuvres de Paid Bourget, edited and annotated by 
Alphonse N. Van Daell. Boston : Ginn & Co. 

Child Life in Art, by Miss Estelle Hurll. Boston : Joseph Knight & 
Co. $2.00. 

A History of the United States, by Allen C. Thomas, A.M. Boston : 
D. C. Heath & Co. $1.25. 


Murray-Northey. — On June 28, 1894, at Greenbush, Mass., Miss 
Isabel Northey, '92, to Mr. Charles Thompson Murray. 

MxmN-EwiNG. — On May 19, 1894, Miss Evarts Ewing, formerly '91, 
to Major Curtis E. Munn, Surgeon United States Army. Address, Mount 
Vernon Barracks, Alabama. 

Bates-Belfield.— On Sept. 4, 1894, Miss Clara Belfield, '92, to Mr. 
Bates. Mr. and Mrs. Bates will live at Hotel Barry, 59th Street, Chicago. 


At Somerville, Mass., July 19, 1894, a son, Arthur William, to Mrs. 
Alice Jones Studd, Wellesley, '93. This is the Honorary Baby of '93. 

May 21, 1894, a daughter, Natalie, to Mrs. Susie H. Bean Gray, '85- 
'87, in Chicago, 111. 

July 14, 1894, a daughter, Faith, to Mrs. Elizabeth Bean Willcox, for- 
merly of '91, in Stamford, Conn. 


At Mamaroneck, N. Y., July 16th, Margaretta Rose, a special student 
at Wellesley, 1884-86. 

It is with sorrow that we learn of the death of the mother of Miss Maria 
R. Russell, at her home in Devonshire, England, on October 4th. 


Jameson & K.nowles Company, 


Boots, Shoes, and 

Specialties: Custom Work, Party Shoes 


No. 15 Winter Street, Boston, 
U. S. A. 


Stationers & Engravers 


20 per cent Discount 


Made by Wellesley College Students. 

No. 3 Beacon Street, 

VOUR attention is called to our stock of 

Gold and Silver Stick Pins ! 
Birthday Gifts ! 

Souvenir Spoons, Souvenir Cups, 
Hair Ornaments. 

Toilet and Desk Furnishings in Sterling and Plated Silver; Marble and Iron Clocks, $6.00 to $20.00. 

Stock in all departments always complete. 

A. StOWell & Co., 24 Winter Street, Boston. 

Cotrell & Leonard 

New York, 

Makers of 

Caps and 

To the 

American . . 

Illustrated . .. 

Catalogue and 
Particulars on 

Artists' Materials . . . 

g-v. Drafting Instruments. 
Art Studies and Books. 

Oil and Water Colors, Crayons, Materials 
For Tapestry, Painting, etc. 

Wadsworth, Howland & Co. 

82 and 84 Washington Street, Boston. 

Branch Store in the 

Grundmann Studios, Clarendon Street, 

Near St. James Avenue. 
Principal Factories 

Maiden, Mass., and Paris, Maine. 



Mackintoshes and Cravenettes, 


&2.00 TO $25. OO. 

ZHellesley Preparatory, 

Prices 25 per cent lower than Dry Goods Stores. 

. . . Special IO per cent to Wellesley Students . . . 



Metropolitan Rubber Co., 

Miss Charlotte H. Conant, B.A. 


Miss Florence Bigelow, M.A. 


Gloves and Veiling. 




Calls the attention of the Young Ladies to her stock of Kid, Undressed Kid, and Dog Skin Gloves that 

are suitable for all occasions, also her very becoming stock of Veilings, and solicits their 

patronage, and will give to any of the students 6 per cent discount. 

Hotel Bellevue, 




Special attention given to Club Dinners and Receptions. 



J. W. SMITH Proprietor. 


Manufacturers of First-class 


Interior Decorations, 

Nos. 38 to 48 Cornhill, 





in all Departments 
of Literature . 

can be found at our store. The largest 
assortment in Boston of the popular and 
standard authors. Also a large variety 
at special reductions. Large variety of 
Bibles, Prayer Books, Booklets, etc. 

We are noted for low prices. 


The Archway Bookstore, 

361 i*' 365 WASHINGTON ST., BOSTON. 

Shreve, Crump I Low Co. 

Jewelers * Silversmitus, 


Fine Stationery. Card Engraving. 

Programs and Invitations, both printed and 
engraved. Class Day Progams a specialty. 

Class Pins designed and manufactured to 

Parasols and Umbrellas made to order, re- 
covered and repaired. 


. .ONLY. . 

First Glass Tfpi Gar Route 


Through Trains Leave Boston as follows : — 
8.30 a. m. (ex. Sunday) Day Express. 
10.30 a. m. (daily) Chicago Special. 
2.00 p. m. (daily) North Shore Limited. 
3.00 p. m. (ex. Sundays) St. Louis and 

Chicago Express. 
7.15 p. m. (daily) Pacific Express. 


Hartford, New Havens New York. 


9.00 a. m. 
11.00 a. m. 

4.00 p. m. 
11.00 p. m. 

(ex. Sunday) 
(ex. Sunday) 


3.30 p. m. 

5.30 p. m. 

10.00 p. in. 

6.41 a. m. 

For tickets, information, time-tables, etc., apply 
to nearest ticket agent. 


General Passenger Agent. 




Golf, Tennis, Basket Ball, Gymnasium, and 
General Athletic Goods. 

SWEATERS in Great Variety. 

Special discount of 15 per cent to Wellesley Students. Send 
for Catalogue. 


No. 344 Washington Street, 



11 John Street, AJew tjork, 

Designer and Maker 

Society Badges, 
Fraternity Pins, 
Rings, Emblem 
Jewels of every 

MEDALS— Trophies for presentation, from original 
■ and artistic designs. Special designs, with esti- 
mates, furnished on application. Inquiries by 
mail promptly attended to. We send design 
plates FREE upon request. 

Wellesley Pins can be obtained from Miss Eliz- 
abeth Stark, Business Manager of Magazine. 

The Dana Hall School, 


Pupils are prepared for regular or for special courses at 
Wellesley College. 

Price for Board and Tuition, $500 for the school year; 
Tuition for day pupils, $125. 

For further information address the Principals : 

Julia A. 

Sarah P. Eastman. 

THHellesleip Jpbarmac^, 




Tru n ks and Bags, 

Pure Drugs and Medicines. 

No. 22 Cliauiic\ Street, 

Physicians' Prescriptions a Specialty. 



The Ladies' Home Journal 


Has a very interesting article entitled 

"The Possibilities of 
Crepe Paper," 

Written by Miss Keenan, one of the 
young ladies of our Crepe Art Depart- 
ment. The illustrations were made 
direct from original designs submitted 
by us. 

The strong and durable texture of 
Imported Crepe Paper, 

with the depth and solidity of color, makes it 
possible to obtain any result the ingenuity of the 
manipulator can conceive. A visit to our Art 
Rooms will be a revelation to all. 


No. 28 Franklin Street, Boston. 

For Fine Millinery 

Visit . . . 


ISo. 21 Temple Place, 



Corns, 25 cents: 

In-growin& NMis,50CTS;MANicimiNG75iT5 

plaster for tender feet, 25cts. 

Ladies' and Gentlemen's rooms 

entirely separate 



500 Washington St., Boston. 

New Fall and 'Winter Styles 

Cloaks, Capes, Furs. 

Cloth Capes . . . $6.00 to $100.00 
Fur Capes .... 8.00 to 350. OO 
Coats 4.00 to 60.OO 

Golf Capes In Great Variety. 

A Custom Department is connected with the estab- 
lishment, where thoroughly first-class 
work is performed. 

6 per cent to Members of the College. 



Miss F. H. Currier, Grove Street, Wellesley, 
will personally attend to shopping in Boston on 

Agent for Barrett's and Lewando's Dyehouses 
and the Equipoise Waist. 

•••Pine Carpets- •• 




William Morris's Patterns in Carpets and Hammersmith Rugs. 

We feel that our Fall Stock will bear the Closest Inspection. 

Joel Goldthwait & Company, 

Nos. 163 to 169 Washington Street, Boston. 



Will call for and deliver clothes at all the College Buildings. 

Plain Clothes by the dozen. 
Fancy Ironing by the hour. 
No bleach or acid used, but clothes dried in the 
open air, weather permitting. 

Fine work of all kinds a specialty. Clothes 
handled carefully and ironed neatly. 

A card to the Wellesley Steam Laundry will be 
promptly attended to. 

J. T. MELLUS, Proprietor. 

The holmes company 

Patent union undergarment 

Is made to 

Fit the Form . . . 

And is unlike any other garment. 


Equestrian Tiglits, ete, 
■mi Specialties to order. 

No. 49 Temple Plhce. Boston. 




Session '94-'95 opens October i, 1894. Three years, Graded Course. Instruction 
by Lectures, Clinics, Recitations and practical work, under supervision in Laboratories 
and Dispensary of College, and in U. S. Infirmary. Clinics and operations in most of 
the City Hospitals and Dispensaries open to Women Students. 

For Catalogues, etc., address 


321 East 15th. Street, New York. 


She : When we got our 
wheels last year we didn't 
suppose there could be any 
better ones, did we ? 

He : No ; but the '94's are 
ahead of them. They are 
better accommodated to the 
different heights of riders. 
They are lighter, because of 
the new Columbia seamless 

She : The saddles are 
more comfortable. 

He : And stronger, too. 
And these guards and break 
work will never let you catch 
your gown. 


Jf tamp/ y°v a&e&e 
you'll /uule*- tk*£-yc 

She : Do you know what 
my gown is ? The Columbia 
Bicycle habit. Redfern of 
New York designed it for the 
company, and it is just the 


and instructor in riding. Free 
instruction to purchasers. All 
orders promptly executed. 
Catalogues free on applica- 

Wellesley College, 

In every department of our store we allow Wellesley 

Professors and Students a discount, 

generally 10 per cent. 

During the year you will notice many attractive goods which your friends at home 
would be glad to see. We shall be glad to send samples at your request. 

Dress Goods, Hosiery, Neckwear, Millinery, 
Underwear and Art Embroideries 

are perhaps some of the departments most interesting to students, but the discount applies 
to every department. 


Tremont Street and Temple Place - - BOSTON, MASS. 



A History of the United States for Schools. 

With Topics and Questions by Frank A. Hill, 
Secretary of the State Board of Education, Massa- 
chusetts. Copiously illustrated, nmo, i.oo, «e/. 

This History of the United States by Mr. Fiske teaches the 
jreat facts and lessons of our country's annals with effective- 
ness and fascination. He has full knowledge of the facts of 
American history, and a clear grasp of their relations; he un- 
derstands very distinctly the influences which determined the 
evolution of American political ideas and institutions. This 
large knowledge and this wise appreciation are supplemented 
by an unrivaled clearness of style, which lends a peculiar value 
and a singular charm to whatever he writes. The book con- 
tains some very valuable appendixes, — one giving the origin of 
the names of the States and Territories, with mention of books 
on the history of States; another naming books treating of suc- 
cessive epochs; another indicating novels, poems, and songs 
relating to American history; another on the Calendar and the 
reckoning of dates. The book is very fully illustrated, but not 
for mere embellishment ; all the maps and pictures have a posi- 
tive historic value. The fullness of its information and the 
charm of its style make this book peculiarly interesting for gen- 
eral readers. 

The Discovery of America. With a steel portrait 
of Mr. Fiske, many maps, facsimiles, and other 
illustrations. Eleventh Thousand. 2 vols., crown 
8vo, gilt top, $4.00. 

"A very cyclopedia of information on all subjects connected 
with its main theme, written by a man whose grasp is compre- 
hensive, and whose knowledge is commensurate with his 
grasp." — London Timtt. 

The American Revolution. With plans of bat- 
tles, and a new steel portrait of Washington. 
Seventh Edition. 2 vols., crown 8vo, $4.00. 

The Beginnings of New England ; or, The Puritan 
Theocracy in its Relation to Civil and Religious 
Liberty. Ninth Edition. Crown 8vo, $2.00. 

The Critical Period of American History, 1783- 
1789. With a map and bibliography. Twelfth 
Edition. Crown 8vo, $2.00. 

The War of Independence. With maps. Eighth 
Edition. 75 cents. 

Civil Government in the United States. With 
some Reference to its Origin*. Fifty-ninth Thou- 
sand. i2mo, $1.00, net. 

" Mr. Fiske writes from full knowledge and through re- 
search, and he has such mastery of his facts, and »o distinct a 
perception of their relations, that his works are marvels of 
clear statement, while his strong, simple style gives to them a 
very unusual attraction." 

For sale by all Booksellers. Sent post-paid, on receipt of price, by the Publishers, 


Frank Wood, Printer, Botton.